


Wicked Games

by Nevara_Alyss



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Angst, Drug Use, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Multi, POV First Person, POV Third Person, Science Fiction & Fantasy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-01
Updated: 2015-01-29
Packaged: 2017-12-31 04:08:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 13
Words: 30,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1027060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nevara_Alyss/pseuds/Nevara_Alyss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Her name was Lucky; a sort of ironic name that never quite fit the person. Now she explains to her closest friend why she did what she had to for New Vegas. Slight AU, Post-game, plus spoilers to campaign.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Boone stood in the elevator of the Lucky 38. The slow whir of the generators kicked on and the faint twang of guitar music played through a fuzzy speaker. The lights flickered and the car creaked as it rode the cables to the presidential suite. He couldn't say how many times he'd ridden it, but he guaranteed himself that his return trip to the streets of New Vegas would be his last.

For months after the Second Battle of Hoover Dam each of his allies had left Lucky's side. Cass had went back to NCR for matters which she refused to discuss. It was an abrupt departure, but both women seemed fine with her decision. Lily went back to Jacobstown with both Lucky and him in tow. The nightkin had developed a deep attachment to his friend, treating her more like a grandchild than as a woman who helped her regain some semblance of sanity. Arcade and Veronica were still in the city, but were working with the Followers. They were knee deep in casualties and destruction when they came back to Freeside. Raul returned to Mexico. He'd promised Lucky that he'd be back. But promises were a strange thing in the Wasteland. As for the flying tin can, ED-E and the robodog, the mutt went back to the King and the bot stayed with Lucky.

With each person's departure, Boone noticed a sadness to his comrade-in-arms, even though he knew she would try to hide it. When it came to those moments, she was very reserved. He'd learned that much about her. She had given so little of herself away that when she'd martyred herself to take them to deal with their issues she graciously obliged them with a small smile. She spoke little of her past and the few times that it had come up she'd only confronted it five times in his presence. Those times she wasn't the woman he'd come to “know.” She was someone different in that context. A stranger in every sense of the definition. She'd only ever given him snapshots of her life or her perception of what the Mojave political climate was doing to her. Even after all they had been through, she still hadn't let him know much about her.

He looked at his muddy boots and the worn carpet underfoot. It was his turn to say farewell to his friend. He didn't know how he was going to muster up the words to explain that he'd taken a job with one of the caravan companies so he could stay near Vegas. He didn't know if he was going to see her again; being overseer seemed like such a solitary responsibility, even for her.

The elevator jerked to a stop, throwing him slightly off balance for a second. It was one of those things that he wasn't going to miss in the slightest. He removed his sunglasses from his face as the door slid open. He was greeted by the darkness of the presidential suite. He thought it was odd that the lights were out. It was a first for him. Even with everyone departing, there always seemed to be life throughout the halls. Soft chirps came from Lucky's room. The door was shut but small threads of light escaped from under the door.

He opened it and saw ED-E hovering over Lucky's bed. The bot whistled and bobbed when it noticed Boone in the room. It rushed at him and stopped a couple of feet away from his face. It babbled and squawked several times before facing the desk and looking at him.

“She's not here is she?” Boone asked with a sigh. ED-E whistled sadly and hovered back to the bed. Digital grumbling came from the Eyebot and let out of a softer, descending whistle. “Alright.” 

He glanced at the desk and saw a small metal case. A folded paper sat on it with his name scrawled across the top. Boone circled the desk and sat in the office chair. He opened the note and saw a six digit code and nothing else. He picked up the box and was surprised by how heavy it was. He remembered her lugging it around with her. Small enough to fit in a pack, but sturdy enough to protect whatever she had hidden in there. In fact, she seemed very protective of the contents that she almost seemed hesitant to acknowledge its existance.

He pressed the code into a pad and heard four loud clicks as the lid unlocked. He opened it up and saw a holotape, some pictures, other trinkets and her Pip-Boy. He slid the tape in and heard a loud burst of static come over the speaker. He turned the dial down till it was barely audible and let out another sigh.

_“Hey, Craig. I guess if you're hearing this then you know I'm gone. Sorry about that. Neither one of us like good-byes,”_ Lucky's voice stated softly. He heard her breathing, the soft shuddering that he'd only rarely heard when she was under duress came clearly through the speaker. _“Damn, I hate these things,”_ she chuckled. _“I was hoping it wouldn't come down to this. And I knew eventually you'd be leaving too.”_ She paused, cleared her throat, and proceeded, _“Don't take it that I wanted you to stay. You do have a life outside of... I guess, our escapades and problem solving._

_I owe you an explanation, I think. I didn't want to drag you into this. Hell, I didn't even know you when I decided and definitely didn't have the forethought about what I was doing. So, I'm sorry. Again.”_

He heard the metal click of her lighter opening and closing repeatedly and an awkward silence. He leaned over the Pip-Boy, nearly urging her to continue. She'd learned a lot about him, but there was no balance in their “relationship.” He had ideas about who she was, but never admitted it and when he'd start to peg her down, she became dismissive and deflected it with a change in topic.

_“I'm glad I got to know you. And there are things I would have told if given the time, but... some things and some people deserve to stay dead. If that makes any sense,”_ Lucky continued. Boone nodded and leaned back in the chair. ED-E hovered closer to him and listened as well to the audio. _“If you're wondering why I chose to leave this for you, it's because I've come to trust you. Whatever you may have thought about me... No. I'm not going to open that up. I can't._

_I just know – or hope – you won't judge me to harshly. Just an ounce of understanding is all I ask,”_ she said. _“So, let's get this going – alright... It started in the dead of night outside Goodsprings...”_


	2. Chapter 2

Boone stopped the recording and rubbed his eyes. He knew about her getting shot, knew that some goon named Benny had done the execution-style attempted murder. Hell, the whole Mojave would have known. Mr. New Vegas blasted it across the airwaves for more than a week after her awakening. It had become the reoccurring advertisement for Mojave Express.

 _“I should have paid more attention . I'm usually more cautious about the 15 and I knew that the Legion was scouting the territory. Our run-ins weren't the first ones I'd had with them,”_ Lucky explained. _“It'd been going on, oh, four years – give or take. It's part of the reason I'd avoid the Nevada territories.”_

Boone stared at the Pip-Boy. Four years? After all this time, he'd figured that he was the catalyst for the hit squads that attacked him and Lucky at every turn. He shook his head, bewildered by the revelation.

“Why?” he uttered. “What did you do to them?”

 _“I don't know why. I never stopped to ask,”_ she replied as if she intended for him to question her about it. He could tell she was holding something back. Her voice drifted back and forth as if caught up in reasons that she wouldn't share. _“It's part of the reason I'd travel alone. I didn't want someone – an innocent – to get caught up in my disaster._

 _I just wanted to do my job, get paid, and get the hell back to NCR. They didn't do too much when I was within its borders, but every once in a great while, they'd come. By comparison, the Long 15 is treacherous on a good day and I would have gladly walked it unarmed during a nuclear winter than face that relentless bunch.”_ She let out a sigh and softly chuckled. _“Anyways, Goodsprings._

_I hadn't even made it there when everything went south. I had no idea what happened. Blitz attacks tend to happen that way. The last thing I remember was a sharp pain to the back of my head. Hell, I couldn't even tell you exactly where the attack happened.”_

Boone heard her dismissive tone. He knew that what had happened caused more harm than she had let on. Part of him wanted her to open up, not seem like such an automaton about tragedy, but then again, that was the nature of the beast in the Wastes. You learned to deal with tragedy or you didn't and you let it consume you, like it had him. She lit another cigarette before continuing.

_“The next thing I remember is waking up to digging and people around me. At first, I thought the Legionaries had finally caught up to me. But this wasn't exactly their style. They could have strung me up, made me an example for the NCR, or whatever their little sadistic minds could dream up._

_To be honest, I was hoping it was them.”_

Boone was taken aback by her honesty. He couldn't understand why someone would want to be captured by them. It would have been worse being that she was a woman. He knew it; she knew it.

He pulled open the top desk drawer and grabbed a tumbler and bottle of whiskey. He poured the golden liquor into the glass and slammed it down without taking the time to savor it. 

_“I got tired of running. Running from them, the past, the unknown, the memories. I to this day still feel like I'm living a lie. Maybe it's not one I created, but one I perpetuated out of sheer survival. Denial. Whatever the fuck you want to call it._

_I think after everything we've been through you have a pretty decent grasp of where I'm coming from and where I'm going.”_

Boone shook his head and poured another glass of whiskey, this time almost to the brim. She kept skirting the issue. The why, the need, just that it had to be that way. It was one of the most frustrating things about her. You almost needed to rip her apart to get her to spill even an iota of a detail even for context's sake.

“You can really be insufferable sometimes. You know that?” he muttered before taking a long swig of the booze. 

He wiped his mouth with his sleeve and placed the glass next to the box. He looked around the desk and saw a framed picture on the desk. It was a picture from after Hoover Dam. 

Lucky, Lily, and him stood on the Great Wall after the battle was over. The two of them were decked in ranger gear. His the familiar NCR standard, hers lighter, like a desert ranger's. She had her helmet off, a small look of satisfaction and juxtaposition on her face. He didn't take off his, he didn't want to show the level of apprehension and what he could only describe as satisfied blood lust. Lily sneered, like she always did, even if that wasn't her intention. She seemed proud of her adopted granddaughter. 

But that was before he knew something had happened to Lucky. Something that he couldn't stop. He didn't know the damage the final battle had wrought on her body. She didn't show it, nor did she bring it up. It was their moment to savor. Their retribution spent with all the dead at their backs.

 _“I guess I'd harbored my own feelings on an impending demise as merely an option. There's nothing more than realizing the time, place,and cause of your death. Some people should be so lucky in some instances. For others, the not knowing is a blessing in disguise.”_ she stopped, inhaling sharply. He knew she was talking about Carla and what he had done. _“And for those who know the time, place and cause and beg for it from their loved ones...”_ She paused for a moment and cleared her throat. _“I don't know who has it harder: the ones who are dead, knowing that their family is their executioner or the one who pulls the trigger to end their father's suffering.”_

Boone stopped the tape and stood up. The way she had said the last line shook him. He couldn't tell if she was questioning him or herself about such an action. She knew why he killed Carla; she agreed with the action, but this was about her. She'd stood in his shoes, too. Except they were eye to eye when she'd killed her father. They could speak to each other. 

She never spoke about anything like that. It was the briefest of glimpses into her life. And in a flash he'd cut her off with his discomfort. He couldn't believe she'd close off something like that, whether to protect herself from reliving it or to seem more average to him. He was guilty of the same thing, too. He didn't want people close to him and yet, he found Lucky being the closest friend he'd had since Carla.

He'd come to rely on her. He cared for her as any friend would, but she still kept those types of feelings to herself and he would never admit how much he cared. It was a dangerous thing. He didn't want to be the cause of someone's death. He couldn't deal with that again. It'd happened too many times. Even after he'd try to warn her away, she stood by his side. Maybe that was why he liked her. She wasn't afraid of the possibility.

He started the recording again, giving her the proper respect she deserved, and closed his eyes. He could picture her smoking her cigarette, drinking a rum and Nuka and staring at the picture on her desk.

_“I didn't have much time to respond. I can admit I was scared. Sure. I can also admit I wasn't ready. I just let that madman talk. The Khans had to be strung out; they were just too twitchy to do anything. I could only watch the end come like a freight train. And then the lights were out._

_I have nothing profound to say about it. Just that there was nothing. I felt time stop. Nothing existed. Heat nor cold, light or dark. Everything just disappeared with a flash of light. It was a rather unspectacular demise, I might add. Though the view of Vegas was nice. I was kinda hoping I'd get to see it again.”_

Boone smirked and let out a wry chuckle. She was deflecting again. She laughed at inappropriate times when she was nervous, turned away when she was hurt. He saw her cry only once. And had him on the verge of breaking down a couple times. She'd figured him out better than he could ever do to her. 

_“I'm glad I did survive. It just seemed strange that I went from this complete isolationist loner, to someone who was willing to have someone tag along._

_Speaking of tagging along, Novac is doing well, if you didn't know. You should stop by when you get the chance.”_

He frowned at that town. Too many ghosts lingered there for him. Lucky was his escape from that. But that was where he'd met her, even if the situation wasn't the best one. He kicked himself later about how he'd treated her and the flying tin can. Even Cass got the cold shoulder from him when they were introduced. 

But Novac, yeah, that's where things changed.


	3. Chapter 3

_“My intention was never to go to Novac. I was going to stick to the 15, head north. It didn't matter in the end. Everyone in Goodsprings warned me not to go. 'Gangers and Deathclaws were everywhere along that stretch.' Powder Gangers weren't an issue; just your run-of-the-mill raiders. Deathclaws? Well, there were less messy ways to die, I guess. Aside from the fact I was freshly from the grave, I didn't want to press my luck any farther than I'd already done,”_ Lucky stated.

_“I guess just breathing again was a roll of the dice, insofar that I'd probably not want to draw the attention of anyone inhospitable.”_

“Inhospitable? How many people do you think you pissed off?” Boone queried.

It wasn't just raiders, or Gangers that she'd ruffled the feathers of. She'd pissed off whole armies, governments. Somewhere along the road, she didn't care about luck running out. It was like the game was rigged and she knew it.

_“I got to Primm my third night out. Found a Mojave Express outpost and told them I'd lost a package. I've done this job since I was 15. I knew the loss of package was a big deal, but the manager seemed hesitant about it. He'd said the whole thing involving my package was strange,” she explained. “Wouldn't really say why the ordeal was strange, just kept it at that._

_It wasn't long before I'd got to Nipton Highway. Maybe half a day or so. I saw the statues near Mojave Outpost. My dad had told me about what the significance of the statues meant. He never liked the idea of the Desert Rangers being absorbed into the NCR. He was one prior to the Unification Pact. Preferred free-roaming the Long 15 all the way to the 80. Occasionally making clandestine Arizona strikes when the need arose,”_ Lucky told him. Boone heard the rustle of papers and then a shuddering laugh. _“He's in the picture on top.”_

Boone pulled out a small stack of photos from the box. He looked at the black and white photo and saw a small girl - maybe age seven - with a cheesy smile. A mop of black hair tousled around her face. A blonde man stood beside her in desert ranger gear, a sniper rifle strapped to his back, and a .44 holstered to his thigh. His helmet was tucked under his arm. He looked as happy as the girl. 

_“That was taken near Ogden. He loved going up there. It was a little more out of the way than I was used to, but worth it,”_ she said. He could almost hear the smile on her face. But something changed in her tone again. Her voice faded as she started again. _“But that was before he... I... Damn it!”_ She let out a sniffle and muttered under her breath, _“A child shouldn't be put in that position.”_

“It's alright. I know,” Boone tried to assure her absent form.

He looked at the picture intently. He didn't think he'd seen her so happy. Innocence lost and all that. 

_“After he died, I went up that way every year and traded with the tribes. I owed it to him. I had nothing to tie me down. I just wandered, took jobs when people would have me. My dad taught me how to shoot, scout, and live off the land. But I'd gained his wanderlust. I wasn't happy in one spot, kind of like now,”_ Lucky stated.

_I walked towards Nipton, sun at my back. You could smell the smoke and cooking meat from halfway down the highway. I heard from one of the caravaneers that Nipton was a pretty busy place. Think Gomorrah: whores, drugs, etc. And it catered to everyone. My plan was to rest there for the night before heading north._

_When I came into town a neurotic man ran at me. I almost shot him on the spot. He had wild eyes and he seemed excited; he screamed about winning the lottery. I figured that was just standard for the town and didn't think much of it. He ran past me into the encroaching darkness. I didn't care where he went, I just wanted him gone. He was way too uppity to get any real information from._

_I walked into Nipton proper and noticed that it was strangely quiet. There was nothing there, no people, just fire,”_ she stated. Boone heard her breathing increase as she spoke. _“I saw the town hall and was about to see what was going on when I saw men in crimson walking around. They almost looked like they were admiring their work.”_ Several lighter clicks ticked onto the recording. _“I knew who they were. I hid behind one of the buildings up the street. The one in charge ordered the troops to leave._

_I waited for a while. I didn't want any of them there. I didn't want to be caught by them. I just wanted the day to be over. Legionaries were the worst way to end the day and I was grossly outnumbered._

_When I was sure they were gone I turned the corner and started to look for survivors. I hoped someone had made it out with their skin. The main street leading up to the town hall told me otherwise._

_I'd seen streets like that before, more than I'd wish to admit. Severed heads staked in contorted faces. The first of many warnings. It's not a sight you forget._ Ever. _I just kept facing forward. The town hall: my prize._

_It didn't take long before I came upon something_ – heh – _something worse. I had found the crucifixions.”_

Boone didn't know why something like that could have been worse than beheading. 

_“It's a slow death. The 'lucky losers' always lost their heads. It's quick. For others, they let linger so that they can feel themselves die. After they've been tortured, beaten, nailed to a cross and stood for show...”_ Lucky's words came quicker and harder as she spoke. _“It would have been a disservice to not do anything._

_I checked the first one I came across. He was barely breathing, even less coherent. His lips were already turning purple from lack of oxygen. I watched him, shook his foot to get his attention. He barely opened his eyes to acknowledge me. He let out a groan from deep in his chest. It sounded like he'd used the rest of his air just to make that noise._

_I looked around; it was so quiet. I turned back to the bloodied man. I swore I heard him beg to make an end for him.”_ Boone heard the click of a hammer being pulled back. He knew it was her .44 revolver. It was the only sidearm she carried. _“It was soft at first, I thought I was hearing things. I didn't want to. I didn't want that responsibility. I almost said no. I had to search deep just to look at them for more than a few seconds._

_I knew I couldn't leave them – him – like that. Not again._

He heard the gun go off and then silence. He couldn't hear her breathing, the flick of her lighter, or squeak of her chair. Boone's breath hitched as five more shots rang out. Each shot shook him more as if she was punctuating her point. She wanted him to feel it. Every squeeze of the trigger, the recoil, the deafening crack as the hammer fell on the round. She was going to show him that she knew exactly what he felt when he'd shot Carla. He heard her crying between each shot; the sobbing only ending when the spent gun fell on the desk.

_“Why? Why did he have to be so reckless? Why did they have to ask me to do it? I couldn't save them – him,”_ Lucky sulked. He pictured her leaning over the picture, eyes flooding with uncontrollable tears. _“I did what I could to make his voice stop. Even after the last one breathed their last, it didn't end. The gun was my father's. It's almost 'cursed,' I guess._

_And I don't believe in curses or coincidences. It just felt like I was reliving it again. Being 15. seeing the last remaining person who'd raised you since 5 be put on display like some trophy. Defiled. Broken. Denigrated. Barely recognizable. The stories of Legion atrocities, aren't stories._

_Spend a few years with them and you'd know. Sadists, all of them. No shred of decency. Just cold calculations and machinations.”_

He heard the ratcheting of a gun's cylinder and casings tinging together. He didn't know what to say. Didn't know what to think. He looked around to see where the bullets had landed. The room was too dimly lit to see. The desk light flickered briefly and then went out. The entire floor seemed to go silent. No machinery working. No buzz of lights. Everything was so still that he felt unsettled. The only illumination came from the glow of the Pip-Boy's screen.

“Shit, he grumbled.

_“I couldn't stay there. Not after the blood I'd spilled. Not after the ghosts seemed to follow me the moment I came into Nevada. This whole thing was bad luck, just like the manager of Mojave Express warned me about._

_I kept walking till the early morning hours. I saw the dinosaur in the distance. Knew that I'd found civilization – at least that's what I'd hoped – I didn't know that I was going to be bringing someone with me,”_ Lucky let out a scoff. _“I wouldn't change it though.”_

“I would, but not for the reasons your thinking,” Boone replied.


	4. Chapter 4

Boone got up to stretch his legs. ED-E whirred around the room carelessly. The sniper had completely forgotten about the bot hovering around. It hadn't made a single chirp or whistle since the tape began to play. The tape sounded like it had clicked to a stop. The silence intensified. The darkness was all encompassing.

“Why did she leave you here then?” Boone questioned the ED-E with a raised eyebrow.

ED-E spun around and bobbed side to side. It let out a stream of woeful cheeps and lowered till it was nearly on the bed. Boone picked up the Pip-Boy and saw the streaming data cross the screen.

“She didn't want you to be alone,” ED-E answered. “She told me about Navarro. She didn't want me to be alone.”

“Then why didn't she take you with?” Boone asked flatly. He let out a sigh of frustration and slammed his beret on the desk. Lucky knew he couldn't stand it. He also knew that Lucky was deeply attached to the bot.

ED-E never answered just sagged with a depressing sway.

Something had happened while on the road just before the Second Battle. She never spoke of where she went or what she'd done. She just said it was a trip she had to take alone, even though he, Cass, Lily and Veronica had all wanted to go with her. She was adamant about not allowing it. She came back with a thick layer of Mojave dust on her. This was no different from any other excursion but the air – the smell – was different. Her split lip and her arm in a sling were proof enough that she had been in a fight. She carried herself differently. She looked almost defeated when she stepped off the elevator.

Her eyes fell upon him first. Over the rims of her thick black glasses, she stared at him, motionless. Her face was blank. It was like she had died in the Wasteland alone. ED-E buzzed passed and stopped when it noticed her standing there. It shook with excitement – if that was even possible – and played its silly little song. The corner of her lip curled slightly and her eyes glassed over. 

She pulled the brim of her hat down so Boone couldn't see her expression anymore and exited the elevator. Lucky stopped between the two of them and nodded in silence for the eyebot to follow. It was like he didn't exist to her then. Boone went to ask what had happened, but she slammed the door behind her and the sound of the lock turning was near deafening.

The sound of Lucky clearing her throat drew Boone's attention to the Pip-Boy once again. He looked at the time at the top of the screen and realized that he had plenty of time before he left for his trip.

_“So, Novac: the town of little consequence with about as much intrigue as the Strip was my next stop,”_ Lucky snorted with amusement.

He remembered the first time he saw Lucky. He had just come from the gift shop at the end of his shift. He saw her standing in the middle of the lot speaking with the daytime sniper, Manny. He couldn't see her face – except her mouth - beyond the wide brim of the cowboy hat. Thick leather armor covered her small frame. (Looking back on it now, he realized that it formed to her body in the all the right places.) A large revolver was strapped to her thigh.

He didn't hear what they were speaking about, nor did he care. He didn't give two shits about anything involving Manny. He only glared at his former friend and kept walking. 

_“I remember when I saw you the first time. You looked so angry, so lost,”_ Lucky said. Her voice was emotionless. There was nothing to go on, not even the trance-like tone she had when she was recalling memories. _“I watched you pass-by and at the time, I thought you were shooting the death glare at me. That's when I called ED-E. I didn't want trouble. And I didn't know if you were a possible threat.” Her voice got lower and quieter. “It's not easy to trust people when you still feel like you're still straddling the grave.”_

“A possible threat? Me?” he questioned amused by the accusation.

_“Lucky for me, the only threat you posed to me was being a pain in my ass,”_ she chortled. 

There was sincerity in her voice and it wasn't often he heard a genuine laugh come from her. He didn't mind if it came at his expense.

“ _I_ was a pain in _your_ ass? Do you realize how much of a pain in _my_ ass psychologically, physically, and emotionally _you_ are?” Boone argued with a wry smile.

His smile faded when he realized that he was sharing the rare moment of relaxation with a recording and not the real woman.

He leaned back in the chair, propped his feet on the desk, and closed his eyes.

He recollected walking to his door and hearing a shrill whistle. It distracted him enough that he turned and saw ED-E fly around the corner of the building. It stopped just behind her and shook violently with excitement. His first thought of the silly bot was that it was nothing but a flying scrapyard. 

His hand fell to the doorknob and his gut filled with dread. Part of him didn't want to enter the apartment where his wife once was. It was too painful a reminder of his failure, yet, it was just another in a string of mishaps he'd been involved with. Carla just happened to be the price he paid for his fuck- ups. All he had to greet him then were the numerous empty bottles of whiskey scattered on the floor, an empty bed, a 10 mm on the chair, and blood: her blood.

He stared at the mysterious woman – Lucky - and saw her gloved fingers tapping on her folded arms. She nodded a couple of times to what Manny was saying and looked past the daytime sniper briefly. Boone could feel their eyes lock on each other. Before he could look away, she had beat him to it.

He gripped the knob tightly and shoved the door open. He slammed the door closed and leaned up against it. Something stirred in him. The way she looked at him had terrified him. It was like she was reading his whole history on his face. Maybe, that's why she looked away so fast, he thought with a heavy sigh. 

To this day, Boone didn't know what she had seen in him.

Lucky didn't distract him from his routine, though. He was curious, sure, but not enough to deviate from the personal hell he was living in. When Manny stopped to tell him that he'd sent someone to fix the ghoul problem at the Repconn Test Site, he was unfazed. He didn't care. Even when he heard gunshots coming from that very direction during his shift, the onus wasn't on him to take responsibility for some girl, some woman wanting to play mercenary.

_“I needed the information on my target,”_ Lucky sulked. _“Manny wouldn't give it to me until I did what he wanted.”_ She let out a sigh and softly chuckled to herself. _“It sounds so whorish when I say it that way.”_

“Seems to be the only way you got anything you needed,” Boone grumbled, never opening his eyes.

But is it what you _really_ needed, he thought to himself.

He didn't see her for about three days after that. On the fourth night, while on duty, he heard the strangest noise. It sounded like thunder, but the skies were clear. He looked in the direction he heard the raucous from and looked through his binoculars. He saw bright, flashing lights that nearly blinded him. He turned away from the sight at a loss as to what he saw.

He returned his thoughts to the glowing lights – fire light – from nearby Nelson. He knew the Legion had taken the NCR encampment in past couple of weeks, but was helpless to do anything about it. While – to him – Novac was of little consequence to the Legion, he knew that eventually they would set their sights on it. What happened to Carla was proof of that idea already.

_“I saw you standing there with your back to me. I don't think you even realized I was there. I looked down to the ground to check on ED-E, but I was truly at a loss as to how to deal with you,”_ Lucky mentioned. _“I looked toward what you were looking at, still not knowing how I should approach you. In fact, I almost did an about face and left. I did the most natural thing for me to do in that situation. I -”_

“You lit a cigarette and chuckled nervously,” Boone said in sync with her. “You know I almost shot you?”

_“If I wasn't so tired at that point, you might have scared the shit out of me,”_ Lucky snickered.

“I'm sorry I pulled a gun at you and pointed it in your face,” he mumbled under his breath.

He nodded to himself in agreement. She had looked exhausted when he looked her over. She wasn't wearing the cowboy hat now. The Pip-Boy she wore on her wrist cast an eery green light in the mouth of the dinosaur. She barely looked old enough to be walking around on her own, much less carry a heavy sidearm. The thick black-rimmed glasses didn't help to change her youthfulness either.

_“You questioned me, which I thought was reasonable, to be sure. The 'why' of everything seems to be the most in demand question between us. The response I got to our meetings 'why' was a little off putting.”_ Lucky admitted. He heard the tinkle of ice in a glass and then it be set down again. He poured another glass of whiskey and began to drink. _“Looking back on it my first thought was: you were an asshole.”_

Her words were like a sock to the gut and he spit the whiskey out in shock. He coughed violently and looked at the picture from the Hoover Dam again. The corner of his mouth twitched. It amazed him how much her opinion of him had changed since then. He didn't know what he had done to change her mind, but on some level he was glad and a little saddened at the same time.

_“You told me to leave and I was more than happy to obliged,”_ Lucky stated with a sigh. _“I was too tired to deal with anyone's bullshit at that moment. I thought it was a mistake to be there. I was going to leave when Manny's shift started. I had already lost three days' time in my pursuit.”_

She had turned his back to him. She didn't even seem annoyed by him. He felt guilty about his tone, about nearly blowing her brains out into the back of Dinky the Dino's throat. He heard the click of the doorknob and he put his hand on her arm and told her to wait.

_“You know I almost shot you when you did that?”_ Lucky queried with a snort.

He nodded, recounting that her hand was on her six shooter. But she had stopped and she didn't resist. She just looked over her shoulder at him. He apologized to her and let her decide what she was going to do.

_“You needed something. Everyone needed something,”_ she growled coldly. _“I was at least willing to listen to your proposition. You needed someone to do your leg work.”_

“I didn't trust anyone because of what happened to Carla. You know that. You weren't here when it happened,” he explained.

_“When you said that the Legion had taken your wife, I sympathized. But because of my run-ins with them, I honestly didn't want to get involved. However, something about the look in your eye made me change my mind,”_ Lucky said as the familiar clicking of the lighter started. _“I thought maybe you wanted information to get her back, but... you were so insistent she was dead already. I almost wanted to slap you. If my father had made that determination without the facts then where would I be now?”_ She gasped. _“Nevermind. Forget I said anything.”_

“Lucky?” Boone asked, his voice insistent on her continuing her thought. “Say it.”

_“I decided to do it for you because I know both sides of that line,”_ she continued with a soft voice.

That was why she nodded slowly and he handed her his beret. He didn't know if he had felt a sense of relief in that moment or the near helpless look she had on her face had pushed him over the edge, but she said nothing and left quickly. He hoped he could trust her. He didn't have anyone else left in the world that he could. He just wanted the person who took his wife and made him do the unthinkable.


	5. Chapter 5

_"I'd searched for the information you needed. I barely slept when I finally got to rest my head,"_ Lucky said. Boone could hear the frown in her voice. _"You needed you answers, resolution, whatever. I made it a priority the next day._

_Exhausted and maybe a little cranky from a lack of sleep, I asked around. Andy, said your wife was pretty and maybe a little boisterous. Cliff at the gift shop said he rarely saw her, but when he did she'd always looked near ill. The McBrides had barely knew either of you, insofar that they didn't even know that she was missing. I didn't explain the situation and left it at that._

_By the time I finally got around to Manny, my patience was running thin. He said you came to him. That he was glad. That she was a bitch and that I probably wouldn't like her."_

Boone nodded. It was true, Lucky probably wouldn't have put up with her if they were in Novac. He knew his wife could be curt about certain things and her complaints in the months before bordered on nitpicking. He would have done anything to make her happy, even leaving Novac; Carla wanted to go back to the high speed lifestyle of Vegas. But he tried to assuage her dissent, make her comfortable and happy where they were.

_"I didn't get much from him. He was more interested in your ended friendship. That he'd lost his best friend,"_ Lucky remarked coldly. Boone could almost feel her deep blue eyes glaring at him. _"He might have been slightly immature and you guys had, in fact, drifted apart because of Carla to some extent, but his concern for you was genuine."_

"Fuck him," Boone growled. "The one person I could have turned to for support and he was a selfish prick."

Lucky let out a sigh as if he'd interrupted her. He quirked an eyebrow at the response and waited for her to continue.

_"I asked Jeannie May and got the same response I'd gotten from just about everyone else. Pretty; you were happy; rude. It always came back to how I probably wouldn't like her; as if everyone knew my personal tastes."_ She let out a heavier sigh and murmured, _"I doubt anyone knows me so well."_

"I know how you work," he replied with a glance at the box and stuck his hand in.

His hand searched around until it hit something soft. He gripped the plushy item gently and pulled it out. A tattered and worn teddy bear came out. It's vacant eyes glistened in the dim light. He held it up under both arms. A small smile spread across his face. It was her dirty little secret that he only knew about. He looked past the stuffed animal and his smile faded.

"She didn't take you with either," he muttered. He made the bear's head flop in a nod. He let out a sigh and got up from the chair.

_"That's when I figured out who had stabbed you in the back,"_ Lucky continued, oblivious to his actions.

He walked over to the bed, still listening to Lucky speak and nestled it in the pillows carefully. He stared at it briefly. He placed his hand on it and closed his eyes.

He knew what happened after that.

He waited for nightfall. Anticipation and anxiety had ignited the night. It was seeped in the wind that blew the dust from the highway below. The typical taint of death ebbed and doubt bled into him. He didn't know if Lucky was going to hold up her end of the deal, even if it was one sided.

He had all but given up hope when he heard Lucky talking below him. He looked through his scope and saw her heading toward the bridge. She wasn't wearing his beret. She stopped and spoke to someone and nodded for the pair to continue.

"Just over here," she'd said walking up to the railing of the bridge.

Then he saw Jeannie May come into view, right in the cross hairs and unaware of his watching. The two women continued speaking and then he saw Lucky look up at him and took a step away. His target was oblivious to all that was going on around her. It was a dangerous scenario at any other time. But it was exactly what he wanted right then. Lucky put her head down and he saw the flash of her lighter and then the burn of her cigarette. She kept speaking to Jeannie as if nothing was going on and that's when he saw her pull the beret out and place it on her head.

"Be careful," Lucky had warned. "It's dangerous out here."

She started shaking her lighter to her ear. Jeannie went to say something and Lucky pointed up at him. He squeezed the trigger with ease, hitting his target between the eyes. The act was as natural as breathing. Except he realized that he hadn't been breathing through half of it. He glimpsed Lucky through his scope, saw her saying something to the dead woman and then walked away.

But he still felt empty. The pleasure he wanted in exacting vengeance wasn't there. He was till hollow inside. Carla was still dead. There was nothing going to bring her back. Now Jeannie May lay dead but even that didn't suffice.

_"I told her it was dangerous. She thought I was kidding,"_ Lucky stated with a weak laugh. _"Her last words to me were: that's why I have a nighttime sniper."_

Boone let out a laugh. It dripped with a still simmering anger. The irony was delicious to be sure, but who had really killed her. Was it Lucky convincing the victim to follow like a lamb being led to slaughter or him for pulling the trigger? In the end it didn't matter, both of them had that bitch's blood on their hands.

"But what did you say to her after that?" Boone questioned.

As the tape went silent he sat on the bed and flopped backwards. He stared into the darkness above him. Some where behind it was the ceiling about him. The bedspread was cool to his skin and even with the room's temperature slowly rising, he found himself shivering. He could still smell her on the sheets. It was a faint smell of perfume and sweat mixing in a fascinating bouquet. Cactus flower, he thought with a small smirk.

How many times had they collapsed onto this bed after returning from the Wasteland? He couldn't fathom the amount. They could be covered in dirt, still armed, and clothed and just fall asleep without a thought. For awhile, Cass thought he was sleeping with her to get in Lucky's pants, but that's not the appeal Lucky ever gave off.

That idea seemed to only get worse when Lily came along. The nightkin made it well apparent to him that if he was going to be intimate with her, he needed to make a proper woman out of her. She wasn't going to let him defile her "sweetie" for kicks. It was probably the only time he'd felt himself blush.

_"I came back to return your hat, but as I reached the top of the stairs, something hit me. You were all alone, your vengeance should have been spent, and a part of me didn't want to walk alone,"_ Lucky admitted.

Boone remembered her coming in and handing him back his beret. He looked at her and frowned. Red mist had sprayed across a side of her face and speckled her lens.

"Are you going to be alright now?" Lucky asked giving a quick glance to Jeannie May's corpse. Boone nodded slowly, unsure about what to do next. Carla was dead. So was... "I'm sorry about Carla and the baby."

Boone's mouth dropped.

"How did you know?" he questioned, his lip quivering slightly.

"The bill of sale," she answered.

"I see," he murmured.

Lucky let out a sigh and opened the door. She went to leave but hesitated.

_"I had to at least ask if you'd come. It's not like I had anything to lose,"_ she explained with almost a shrug in her voice.

He told her "no" and she continued walking. She didn't even look sad to his negative response. She just took it.

He turned back toward Nelson and stared into the night. He felt withdrawn from Novac. He didn't give a damn about this backwater town, didn't give one iota of a fuck about himself. He wasn't spent in his vengeance like he thought the execution would do. He had an unending vendetta: until Caesar was dead, until the Legion was dead, he would not be fulfilled.

He spun quickly around and ran through the gift shop till he was out in the lot again. He saw Lucky opening the door to her room and it shutting.

_"I was going to leave at dawn for Boulder City. I had my own hand to play, still and I'd spent too many days there,"_ Lucky coldly stated. _"I don't like to linger in one place for too long, and definitely not with the Legion a klick away."_

He ran across the yard and came to a dead stop when his own room door came into view. Part of him didn't want to leave, but something in the way Lucky worked beckoned him to face his evils. It was time for him to pay the piper and he hoped she'd be the death of him.

He shook off the thought and hurried up the stairs. He pounded on the door once and got no response. He tried again, much more insistently for her to respond.

_"You scared the hell out of me,"_ Lucky admitted with a nervous chuckle.

He remembered her small frame blocking the door and the click of a hammer returning to its resting place. Her long black hair flowed over her shoulders and rested delicately on her chest. An oversized button down shirt was all she wore.

Carla used to wear his shirts like that when they were alone.

_"I was shocked that you had come at all."_

She moved aside and let him in. She let her gun arm drop to her side. She never took her eyes off of him as she put the piece back in its holster and then sat on the bed. She picked up the smoldering cigarette and put it to her lips. He almost took a full minute to say anything. He just stared at her, maybe with a bit of amusement, but more for the fact that she'd let him in in the first place.

"Does your offer still stand?" he asked her.

Lucky blew out the smoke and nodded.

_"If that's what you wanted, I wasn't going to stop you. Even when you said that you were only there to hunt Legionaries, I allowed it. I knew eventually I was going to have to face that monkey on my back. You just sped it up faster than I intended,"_ Lucky said and snorted playfully, _"jackass."_

He let out a soft chuckle as he closed his eyes. Her words bled into his thoughts.

_"You said you'd be back. I left the door unlocked. I figured you'd be back shortly, but I was too fucking tired to wait any longer,"_ she said.

He went to his room, the smell and silent screams were deafening.

"I'm sorry, Carla," he uttered under his breath.

He grabbed his 10mm and the knife still left on the floor. He picked up a piece of paper and scratched out a note to Manny: Novac is yours. He came out of the room and walked to Manny's door. He held up the note and slammed the blade of the knife through it and stuck it to his door.

He made his way back to Lucky's room and knocked softer than the first two times. Again, he got no response. He jiggled the door knob and the door swung freely. He stuck his head in and saw Lucky asleep on the bed. She was propped up on the pillows and even though sleep made a person relax to an extent, she looked like she was fighting something in her sleep. No, no thrashing, just sadness.

He sat on the couch beside the bed and looked at her. Her fit, pale legs sparkled in the yellow lamplight. Numerous scars scaled across her thighs and calves. Silvery-grey lines trailed from hip to toe.

The only thought he could ask and still did was: what the hell happened to you?


	6. Chapter 6

_“I thought I'd let you sleep. There were a few things I had to do before we left anyways,”_ Lucky said. _“It had been a long time since I'd woken up with someone in the same room as me.”_

Boone woke up to streams of sunlight flooding in through the wooden slats over the window. He rubbed his eyes and let out a long groan. He squinted, not remembering where he was and looked around the room. The first thing he noticed was that he was covered in a blanket. He remembered laying on the couch and watching Lucky and then nothing.

He saw her pack on the foot of the bed and a flak jacket laid over the top. He stretched and felt every muscle straining to relax. He stood and wandered around the room, knocking on the bathroom door first to see if Lucky was there. He turned around and noticed that the floating trashcan was gone as well.

Walking out into the cool autumn morning and seeing the town coming to life during daylight hours was something he hadn't noticed in a long time. He rested his hands on the railing and leaned slightly out to see if he could find Lucky. The old woman at the other end of the complex saw him and smiled. Boone didn't return the favor. He would have preferred to have been ignored all together that early in the day.

He looked the other way and saw her finally in the workshop.

People walked around him. They all had strange looks on their faces and none had greeted him. A small group of townies were whispering amongst each other as he crossed the road and headed to Lucky.

“You need to hold still, ED-E” Lucky insisted with a sigh.

The bot let out a chirp and then settled again. 

_“I knew you were there. I could smell the stale booze,”_ Lucky stated with a snort.

A small gloved hand reached for a coffee cup on the bench and drank. She set down the glass, lit a cigarette and continued working. He heard her grumbling and swearing as she picked up a nearby screwdriver. She clicked her tongue a couple of times and then flicked her ash.

“Are you going to say something,” she asked coldly without looking.

“Morning,” Boone finally uttered. 

“Yeah,” she grumbled. “That'll do.” She dropped her cigarette on the ground and smothered it with the toe of her boot. She picked it up and stuck it in her back pocket. Boone recognized it as a sniper's way of covering their tracks. “Alright, you're done.” She turned around and glanced at Boone as the bot began to hover again. “Just don't do anything too rash; I don't know if those bolts are going to hold,” she admitted with a frown.

“What's with that thing?” Boone asked with nod in ED-E's direction.

“I dunno. He's nice enough. When I reactivated him he seemed... grateful?” Lucky explained.

“You know there is a scrapyard not far up the road if you want to drop him off there,” he remarked, folding his arms.

He remembered the icy cold stare that Lucky had given him. Her glare was piercing enough to unsettle him. ED-E, however, shook and let out a cacophonous sound. 

_“I was going to let him shoot you,”_ Lucky confessed. _“I didn't think I needed to waste my ammo. I don't know if ED-E ever really forgave you for that.”_ She let out a sigh and said, _“Ah well, you two are together now and probably will be for awhile. You might want to work out your differences.”_

Boone watched ED-E watch him. He couldn't believe that she would do that to him. He glared at the bot in silence and stopped the tape.

“Is she pissed at both of us?” He asked the tin can. ED-E let out a wistful trill and zoomed out of the room. 

Boone growled in frustration and turned the tape back on. He didn't know if he wanted to listen anymore. If she was going to be a bitch about the two of them not liking each other then he wasn't going to give her the time. He had to get ready to leave, he just wanted to say good-bye and be done with it, not listen to her memoirs under the shroud of answers. He hit the fast forward on the screen and watch the timer tick off minutes. When he thought he had gone far enough ahead he listened again.

 _“It was the first time I'd heard that I was tough to kill – it wouldn't be the last, unfortunately.”_ Lucky began with a plaintive tone. _“The Great Khan that was with Benny the night I got shot was there. I knew that the Khans had taken Boulder City as a refuge, but I didn't have an option not to go. It was just a piece leading to the climax. I was determined to get my reparations in the form of blood._

_Hell, the Khan gave me his damn blessings and a parting gift.”_

Boone remembered the standoff that had gone on there. The Khans were entrenched in the ruins of the ghost town. They had hostages – NCR recruits. He did nothing about it. He didn't want to get involved. It was between Lucky and her question. Whether she got the answer she wanted was transitory to him.

He looked at the monument and read the names on the large slab of rock. Four years. This is where the NCR had stopped the Legion the first time. It was the end of Joshua Graham, the Malpais Legate, or whatever fancy fucking name they called their generals. It was his ultimate failure. Everyone knew it. No one knew if he was dead or alive. He hoped it was the former. The son of a bitch was a sadist, ruthless in determination. Even the NCR Ranger sharpshooters had five confirmed accounts of his death. He was hard to kill... kind of like Lucky. 

And now it was only a matter of time before the Mojave was greeted from another attack by the Legion forces. He hoped that the Legion wouldn't push them to this point again. They already blew the damn city up once and if Caesar were as cunning as some thought, they wouldn't fall for the same trick that damned Graham.

He spoke briefly with the young private that was there and only stepped away when he heard gravel being crushed under foot. He saw several people running towards him with Lucky and ED-E bringing up the rear. He saw the leather vests and shuddered. His first thought was Bitter Springs and he prayed that none of them would recognize him.

“Fuck those NCR bastards!” a Great Khan with a mohawk yelled into the fading sky.

When Lucky caught up to him she had a small smile on her face. She flipped a small metallic square into the air and caught it. She examined it and and let out a disappointed sigh.

“His is better than mine,” Lucky mentioned as she dug into her pocket to compare the two.

Boone watched her for several minutes as she turned each over and shook them next to her ear. Behind her glasses, her eyes squinted. The dimming sunlight made her icy blue eyes sparkle. A soft breeze picked up as she flicked them open and ignited them. Her black hair flitted delicately as she played with the fire.

“Are you done?!” Boone snapped. The tone in his voice made Lucky jump. The small bit of amusement died and a subtle look of fear seemed to grip her. Even he was surprised at how forceful he was, but he wasn't prepared for the startled reaction he'd received. “I'm sorry.”

 _“I wasn't prepared for that. I hadn't had anyone use that tone with me in... God, nine years. And the one who did it? You didn't want that tone, not even a little bit. Not from him. Not ever,”_ Lucky eventually said as if she was trying to shake off the chill she remembered. She let out a soft chuckle to cover up the shame she felt from it.

Lucky stared at him for a moment. She examined him carefully. She met his eye and let out a weak laugh and checked her Pip-Boy.

“Well? Where are we going?” Boone questioned in a calmer tone.

“Are you hungry?” She asked back with a soft tone. She almost sounded submissive with the question.

“If you guys are going to eat, there's the 188 on the overpass,” the private stated.

The duo looked a little ways to the west and nodded to each other. They started walking towards the dying sun. Boone kept looking out of the corner of his eye at Lucky. She looked determined and unphazed now by his yelling.

“Are you going to answer my question now?” he queried.

Lucky looked at him. She crooked her eyebrow and replied, “Vegas.”

 _“If we hadn't gone that way at least to eat, we'd have never met Veronica,”_ Lucky chimed.

“Oh, hell, Veronica,” Boone murmured. “The second or third person that would join your motley crew.”

 _“I prefer to call you guys 'strays' if you're going to complain,”_ Lucky interjected as if knowing his complaint about the former Brotherhood of Steel Scribe. _“Now if your done, I'd like to continue. You're going to be here soon and I have some admittances I have to get to before you get here.”_


	7. Chapter 7

Boone ordered his food. Lucky didn't eat; she tossed the caps on the counter with a faint smile. He looked at her, worried maybe, but unaware that her thoughts were elsewhere.

_“I just wasn't hungry. We still had daylight to burn and I was that much closer to my target,”_ Lucky remarked. Boone could picture the scowl on her face. _“But I knew we were being watched. I didn't know if it was Legion, NCR, or some other person looking for trouble. I tend to attract those elements. Thankfully, it was just Veronica.”_

As they sat at the bar, a woman came up beside him. She sat there watching the two of them. Lucky stayed watching forward, ignoring the woman, but the girl unsettled Boone. She cleared her throat several times and in a huff of frustration and maybe a little annoyance, his companion finally looked at the interloper.

“You look like hell,” the woman said with a snarky tone.

“I feel like it,” Lucky answered back. She waved over the barkeep and ordered a shot of whiskey. She slammed the alcohol back without a thought and grimaced in pain. She sniffed sharply and wiped her hand across her nose. She examined it closely and shrugged. “What do you want?”

“Nothing. Just making an observation,” she replied back. Her eyes fell on him and the small grin she had vanished. “I'm Veronica, by the way.”

“Lucky.”

Boone stayed silent. He ate his dinner; his memories of Vegas begging to be relived every time his eyes fell on the bastion of light in the distance. He was torn about the city in the desert. It was an Old World memorial reborn. It was almost like returning home for him. It was where he was raised, where he loved, and where he changed. It was Carla and NCR. And now it was just the burial grounds of those memories.

He got up amidst the women's conversation and walked to the overpass. His mind was flooded, his heart heavy, but that moment and feeling were for him alone. There was no point in weighing down the levity of Veronica's personality or stressing Lucky anymore than she already was. He still argued whether going with the courier/mercenary was a good idea.

He turned to the young woman he'd traveled with and frowned. Both women were getting up from the bar. Lucky's brows were furrowed, an obvious look of pain on her face. Veronica looked chipper as they came to a stop beside him on the overpass.

“She's coming with,” Lucky stated with a slight groan. She rubbed her eyes and shook her head. Adjusting her glasses again, she looked at Boone. “Is that a problem?”

He scoffed but never uttered a word.

“Fine then, let's go” Veronica replied. She started walking down the off-ramp and came to a dead stop. “Where are we going?”

Lucky lit a cigarette and looked at her Pip-Boy. She inhaled sharply and glanced at ED-E. “I know.” She kept turning the dial and pressing the screen until she was satisfied. “Vegas.”

“Oh! I've never been there! Elder McNamara wouldn't get me a passport to go,” Veronica chirped cheerfully.

“Right,” sighed Lucky. The word hung on her lips as if unamused by Veronica's comments.

_“I was going to keep going as long as the headache would allow. Painkillers didn't help anymore. I knew that before getting double-tapped. I had grown immune to them when I was teen. Probably from over use after my surgeries. I don't know. My father never forgave himself for what had happened, even though it wasn't his fault._

_He'd lost most of his family for three years. And when he found me, he knew I was the only one coming back and even then, the girl he'd raised as his own died somewhere across the border in enemy territory,” Lucky chuckled weakly. She let out a shudder and sniffled. “Look at that: of all the things I told you, Veronica, Arcade, all of you, I couldn't follow my own advice. It's probably why I'm not there telling you this to your face. Fear, hypocrisy,regret, outrage. Those things aren't something you forget and they are impossible to let go of because they become a part of you.”_

They continued for an hour - maybe two - before Lucky's pain had turned to full blown vomiting. Several times they had to stop as she purged bile and blood on the side of the road. She looked ashen in the pale moonlight. Her swaying walk continued until they came to a small roadside dinner. She let out a loud groan and gagged as if to puke up her innards this time.

“We can stop here for the night,” Veronica insisted with a worried voice.

“You want to stop here? This place smells like brahmin shit,” Boone barked.

“Would you rather her pass out on the side of the road some place?” Veronica shot back folding her arms.

“Enough!” Lucky yelped. The two stopped arguing and looked at the ill woman. She glared at the two of them. Her head tilted as if her equilibrium was starting to fail her again. “I can't take this shit! I didn't bring either one of you with me to put up with this! Yes, my head is fucked up right now and you guys bickering like children doesn't make it any easier to deal with it.”

Boone went to protest the disgruntled woman and then thought better of it. He turned and looked at the bright lights of Vegas. He was so close now. The monorail leaving McCarran loomed in the distance. They could have kept going, but the ailing woman staring at him made him hesitate to move on without them.

“Just give me an hour to sit. Hopefully we can get there and find lodging for the night, just let me get this under control,” Lucky pleaded. 

Boone nodded. He could accept that. He knew an hour probably wasn't going to do much for her in the way of relief, but guessed she knew his insistence was for the better.

They moved to a distant spot and Lucky pulled her backpack off and dropped it on a mat. It made a loud metallic noise as it hit the ground. Boone quirked an eyebrow with curiosity and sat on the mat next to her. She quickly followed suit. She let out a relieved sigh and dug through her pack for a moment. She pulled out a book, the binding still intact even if the cover's title was barely readable. She set it beside her and reached into her pocket. She tossed a small object at Boone and pointed to the firepit.

He lit it and handed the lighter to Lucky who didn't take it back. She just picked up the book and began to read. There was nothing for him to do but watch in boredom as Veronica examined ED-E and mentioned that the Brotherhood Scribes would be completely elated to get their hands on the eyebot. ED-E didn't take to kindly to that and squawked. He zoomed away from her and hovered just behind Lucky. Veronica finally joined them and sat on an adjacent mat.

“So, you two married?” Veronica questioned. He could tell she was trying to make conversation, but he wasn't in the mood to talk.

“Yeah,” Boone said softly. He looked away from Lucky when he felt her examining him.

“It's complicated,” Lucky replied, returning her attention to her book.

“Complicated? Did I break up some newlywed trip?” Veronica asked with a frown.

“No, we're not married to each other,” Lucky stammered in shock. “My person... isn't here yet.”

“Person?” Boone queried.

“I wouldn't exactly call him my spouse,” she replied. Her hand began feverishly rubbing her ring finger. “He's – I – not here yet.”

“You don't sound happy about that,” Veronica remarked.

“What? About him not being here?” Lucky asked back. Veronica nodded enthusiastically. “I'm thrilled he's not here. Yet,” She looked over her shoulder toward the east and shook her head. She let out a soft chuckle and looked at Boone. Her blue eyes shimmered in the dancing firelight. There was something in them that he couldn't place. Maybe it was fear or doubt, but something was definitely there. “It's only a matter of time before he's back in my life and then he'll come back for what is his.”

The group grew silent as they thought about what Lucky had said. Veronica snapped a twig and threw it in the pit. Boone's throat had a lump in it. He would never have thought about Carla that way. Lucky just took the hand given and resigned herself to it. She was “glad” that her significant other was there? Even if he was an abusive asshole, it meant she still had someone thinking about her and even if there were bad days, there had to be good days in there as well.

Veronica let out a heavy sigh and leaned toward Lucky; who was eying Boone with a contemplative look. When she realized he was watching her watch him, her eyes darted back to the book.

“Hey, who's that?” Veronica asked, her hand shooting into Lucky's reading space. She grabbed a dingy scrap of paper from out of the book and looked intensely at it. “Is that your husband?”

Lucky was frozen. A strange pained expression hit her like she'd been socked in the gut.

“It's no one,” she finally snapped.

Veronica flipped over the paper and squinted. She mouthed something and then handed it back to Lucky without saying anything else. The wounded woman snatched it violently from her and stuck it in the book. She slammed it shut, threw it in the pack, and stood.

“Let's get this over with,” Lucky scowled angrily. 

She had every right to be pissed; he would have been too if it had been him in her position. What was Veronica thinking? Lucky couldn't look at either of them, she made her pace fast to put distance between them, only ED-E stayed with her. Before either one knew it, they were standing at the gates of New Vegas and Lucky, well, she wasn't as enraptured as Veronica but not as beaten down by the idea as he was. She was just Lucky.

XXXXX

_“It's the second thing in the box,”_ Lucky said with hesitation.

Boone stuck his hand in and felt around. As he hit the top stack of items, the lights flickered on, blinding him in an instant. The drone of machinery and electricity filled the air. He rubbed his eyes and stood over the box. On the top of the stack was another photo attached to a holotape.

He examined the picture intensely. It was of a soldier and another young girl. This one, however was covered head to toe in bandages. The soldier – who appeared to be a cadet - was handing her a teddy bear. The location looked like Fort McCarran before the place was truly established.

Boone looked closely at the bear in the photo and then to the one he'd put on the bed. There was definitely a resemblance between the two. The tattered bow was near pristine in the photo.

“Is that you?” he questioned under his breath. He flipped over the photo and read: _Quiescit in pace Abigail Bell._ He knew she could speak latin – he'd heard her do it before when speaking with captured Legionaries or Arcade when they were messing around, but this was written by a child. He shook off the dreadful thoughts coming to mind and noticed something else. In smaller text by the corner was more writing but it was scrawled in an unintelligible language. The only thing he could make out were two names: _Donovan and Isaac Bell. 2275 and 2270._

_“It means rest in peace. That girl was dead. She died... along time ago without a friend in the world at the hand of someone you've met before,”_ Lucky explained. 

“Someone I've met?” Boone asked to the ether. He didn't know anyone capable of that personally. If he had, he'd have killed them when he found out.

_“The second is just tribal. It says the same thing as the other. Those two people: my father and uncle. Both taken by Legion, because of me,”_ her voice cracked and then went silent.

Boone turned the tattered picture back and looked it over again. The whole thing seemed so vaguely familiar to him, but he couldn't place it. He opened the center desk drawer and pulled out a magnifying glass. He held it before him and glossed over the soldier in the photo.

“No,” he stammered.

_“Don't touch the holotape. That's for me and me alone,”_ Lucky coldly hissed. _“There are things in there that you should never know about then, what happened. There is no 'why' because I don't have an answer for it. It just was. Is. Fuck.”_ She started stumbling over her words. And in a flustered tone she said, _“Just... let's deal with this now. What it has done. You'll be looking for rationality where there is none on that holotape. I don't want to be thought of anymore differently than I am now.”_

“But..” Boone argued.

_“Don't argue. I know you're going to goddamn argue with a recording, but please-,”_ Lucky begged. _“Abigail Bell is dead!”_

“I'm sorry,” he said softly. His finger ran down the little girl in the photo. He closed his eyes and let out a pained sigh.

_“Just hold out a little longer. We're almost done and we can go our separate ways. Which I thought we would do after you found out about Benny.”_


	8. Chapter 8

_“The day I decided to confront Benny, you were bed-ridden. Hungover or migraine, it didn't matter, you weren't moving. So I took Veronica and ED-E with me. While they looked out of place on the Strip and I was more inconspicuous we slipped into the Tops._

_We were met by the greeter who pointed me to Swank. I was as pleasant as I could be laying on a thick layer of sex appeal that even had my stomach churning with disgust. I told him about Benny, what he did, what he was probably going to do and I was granted access. He figured I was working on House's authority and let it slide._

_He was even willing to give us a pass to carry, but I wouldn't have it. I hoped there was a way I could convince him to turn himself in and/or just give me the chip. Veronica was hesitant about what I should do, so she took her power fist with her._

_I could see Benny by the blackjack tables, surrounded by his personal guard and I felt ill. I walked past him to the cage and got some chips. I just needed to calm my nervous, it wasn't every day you came face to face with the guy that tried to off you._

_After five failed hands of blackjack, I stood. I had to get this over with and the longer I waited the worse the anxiety was going to get. A waitress walking around stopped and gave me a complimentary shot of vodka, which I almost knocked over because my hands were shaking so bad. I'm sure I looked the sight. Long black hair, make up, a dress? - Hell, I hate dresses. I had to of been making the floor manager nervous with how stiff and antsy I was._

_So, I sucked it up and told Veronica my very unorthodox plan. The best way to part a man with something he has is to get it off of him. She wasn't very happy about it; I didn't care if she agreed, I just wanted her to play along. So, I took the Pip-Boy off and made my way to him._

_To say that Benny was shocked to see me there is a bit of an understatement. He was completely dumbfounded. I, on the other hand, played it cool. Used the big eyes and gentle purrs of seduction that I figured would work. He was apprehensive about it and at one point I thought he was going to nail me again just to make me go away. But he didn't. It was uncomfortable for him to accept that I wanted to fuck him in a 'let bygones be bygones' sorta way, but he agreed and I knew that my chase was coming to and end after this last hurdle._

_We went up to his private room and I told Veronica to stay out in the hall. I honestly didn't know how long it was going to take or if I was just going to freak out because of some person touching me, but I found myself falling into my role easily. It was like reliving my youth all over again. You just weren't there in those moments. You followed your instructions to the letter. Whatever they wanted you did without protest,”_ Lucky stopped and finally took a breath. She lit a cigarette and for almost five minutes there was silence. _“It was not how I wanted to get back into the game. I doubt I'd ever get to experience the other side of that field. The lovey dovey side of it. Intimacy, if you will. No, it was just a device; a game that I was going to play.”_

Boone shook his head. He'd heard her say that before and he empathized with her mindset. She was so cold about her description as if the former justified the latter. He knew that she was capable of it, if she would allow it, but she always denied herself the possibility.

ED-E chirped several times and let out low sneaky beeps. Boone looked at the bot in the doorway and then to the Pip-Boy which was streaming with letters across the screen. It was a bunch of sensor data.

_Lucky: internal temperature: .41% increase. Respiration: 15% increase. Humidity: 1% increase. Heart rate: 110. Oxygen Saturation: increasing._

_Unknown: internal temperature: .39% increase. Respiration: 20% Humidity: 1% increase. Heart rate: 130. Oxygen Saturation: increasing._

_Does the transfer of biological information help to facilitate the completion of our mission?_

Boone lifted an eyebrow. He let out a loud laugh. He felt his cheeks getting hot as he read and reread the text. That's why Veronica was laughing hysterically when she came back. 

“You were watching?” Boone finally asked.

ED-E let out more low sneaky beeps and then a familiar sound came from him. It was soft at first and then built in intensity. Moans, sighs and groans by two parties in the heat of ecstasy. And then he heard her. Soft cries of pain and pleasure, her panting. The squeak of the bed springs. It was setting up the whole scene for him. 

Boone felt his gut tighten. His breathing increased. His hands became fists. He was angry and he didn't know why. He cared about her, yes, but to let such a powerful emotion overtake him, it was maddening. Listening to her in the throes of passion with another man nearly had him on the floor. His chest became tight and in a spark of clarity, he knew it was jealousy. 

Jealous of Benny for being with her. For using her. And he was angry at her for letting him do it. She wanted to be close to someone and when she could have had that intimate moment she always desired with someone she cared about, she'd stopped him. Why? She trusted him. She'd put herself in danger for him and...

He slammed his fist on the desk. No, he couldn't think of her that way. He wouldn't allow himself the idea. His heart belonged to Carla and only her. But listening to that had made him doubt it for an instant. Could he possibly...? No. Lucky was too good for that. She needed someone who wasn't going to be torn between two women. She deserved better than that and he couldn't give it to her. He shook his head again and grabbed the bottle of whiskey off the desk and downed the rest of it without a breath.

“You recorded that, too?” he scoffed, wiping the dribbling amber from his chin.

ED-E let out an excited tune of accomplishment.

“Does she know?”

Another string of sneaky beeps, and he wavered back through the door.

“You better hope she never finds out or she'll take me up on my offer to drop you off at the scrapyard when she gets back,” Boone called. ED-E returned to the doorway and sank. “Is there more?”

He heard her lighter and then her sniffling like she had been crying. Soft snoring was coming from Benny. He heard her sigh and then the click of a gun's slide falling into place. The bed springs squeaked gently and he heard a grunt.

“Benny baby?” Lucky purred.

“Huh?” Benny asked, half asleep.

“You were right. The game _was_ rigged from the start,” she murmured almost lovingly.

There was struggling and thrashing. Benny's muffled screams bled onto the recording and then a gunshot went off. Followed by a second and then nothing.

_“It was poetic justice. He fucked me and shot me. It was only fair I returned the favor. Only this time, I made sure he was dead before I left.”_

Lucky was so nonchalant about it. Even her words sounded like lies. There was more to it than that. Yes, it was personal. It was a vendetta, but it was so much more to her than that. Otherwise...

_“I left, told Veronica and ED-E to go back to the 38. I explained to Swank what happened and left the Strip. I walked for hours, head clouded, body aching. I just wanted the day to be over. I wanted to bathe. I could still smell him. On his jacket, in my hair. It was like he'd seeped into my every pore and I hadn't felt like that since... um... my first.”_

Boone woke up in the darkened spare room. His headache had cleared just enough for him to be coherent. He wasn't nauseous anymore. He heard Veronica laughing and ED-E was warbling as if telling her a story. He got up from the bed and let out an angry groan. A bottle of whiskey fell off the side of the bed and landed on the floor.

The laughing and cheeps came to a stop as he made his way to the door. He saw Veronica coming from the dining area, the Pip-Boy in her hand and he knew something was off.

“Where's Lucky?” Boone asked folding his arms in front of him.

Veronica's smile faded when she saw him.

“Not here,” she abruptly replied.

“I can see that,” he remarked, pointing at the Pip-Boy. “Where is she?”

“I don't know. She just said to come back here,” Veronica said with a frown.

“You let her walk around Vegas by herself?!” Boone yelled. He snatched the Pip-Boy from the Scribe's hand and rang the elevator. “I have to find her.”

“I'm sure she's fine. I mean she did diddle Benny, but she got what she was after,” Veronica prodded.

“She did what?” he growled, glancing over his shoulder.

“Check the Pip-Boy. It's got everything on there. And I mean everything,” she stated with a small smirk. She could barely contain the giggle that she was holding back.

The elevator opened and he stepped on. He didn't know where he was going to find her. All he knew was this small woman was walking around Vegas with a platinum chip that the most powerful person in Vegas wanted returned. If anyone knew she had it, she was a target. He had to get her back to the 38, maybe take it to the NCR. He didn't know. He just knew that the girl was going to get herself killed by herself.

He wandered around the streets of Freeside well into the night. Children ran around looking for their next meal. He checked the shops and found himself outside the Atomic Wrangler. Lucky knew the Garrett twins, she'd done work for them a couple of times. It was the last place he had to look; he was running out of ideas and this was as good a place as anyway.

The bar smelled of vomit and piss. He scanned the theater area and then saw her sitting at the bar. The Garretts were laughing as Lucky slammed back another shot. She tapped the counter and James Garrett happily obliged her order.

“It's like this: sex is a tool. It creates and destroys so much. It's good and evil, expresses love and hate. It's dirty and pure,” she explained with an obvious slur. All Boone could do was watch her. The booze was like a truth serum to her waxing philosophic. “Pain and pleasure, both given and taken. It's mutual and single-minded.” She looked at Beatrix – the ghoul nodded in agreement. “You understand, right?”

“Completely,” she said with a smile.

“Then you have those that just use it to break you down. It warps your mind, the very concept of its use becomes nothing but a weapon. There is no joy in it. It just is. The picture it creates in you stays,” She continued. Francine, this time, set a shot in front of her and without thinking the drunken girl downed it. “Ben?”

The older man to her left looked at her and patted her back gently.

“What is it, hon?” he cooed playfully.

“Do you think a person could be capable of love if they only know that its been used against them? I mean, if your ability to love is tied to an undying hatred. Would that make them one and the same?” she asked.

“I don't know. Why would someone use you like that?” he queried. He waved to James and motioned for him to cut her off. 

The bartender nodded and saw Boone standing to the side. He waved him over and pointed at Lucky.

“Because I was a slave to him. He could do whatever he wanted with little to no recourse. He was a vindictive son-of-a-bitch. Always told me that the last thing I would see my father die before he executed me,” Lucky replied. Her head fell to her chest. James cupped her chin in his hand and frowned. She let out a loose laugh. “I think he was using me in want of my dad.”

“That's unfortunate, kiddo,” James said.

“Yeah. And after what I did today. Sitting with the prostitutes seems to be fitting. No offense.” She let out another sigh and tried to stand. She swayed back and forth and nearly fell over, but Boone was close enough to catch her. “Hey! You're here!”

“You're drunk,” Boone replied.

Lucky blew a raspberry and shook her head.

“Yes. Yes, I am. Thanks for pointing out the un-obvious,” she giggled. “You have no idea the shit day I had.”

“I know it wasn't great.” he said.

“That's fucking spec- shpec- spectab? - good,” she grumbled. She leaned forward and rested her head on his chest. “You are a good guy, ya know. When you aren't an asshole. You wouldn't use me, would you?”

“No,” he answered. 

“You would have been a good manner to me,” she murmured. “Carla was lucky to have you.” She threw her arm around his neck. He felt her get heavy and then silence.

He picked her up in his arms and turned to the Garretts. 

“How much does she owe?”

The twins looked at each other and then nodded.

“For what she did for Vegas, it's on the house,” Francine replied.

Boone was shocked. The Garrett twins didn't give anything away.

“Take care of her, okay?” Old Ben asked with a sullen look.

The sniper nodded and looked at the sleeping woman. She was curled up into him. He could barely see her face beneath the black and white checked jacket. A guard held the door open for him and he headed back to the Strip. 

When he got back to the Presidential Suite of the 38, he was greeted to darkness. He could hear Veronica snoring in their shared room. The Victor bot greeted him and turned on the light. He laid her on the bed and spied her pack by the dresser. He opened it up and saw a strange fuzzy object hugging a box. He pulled it out and let out an amused snort. It was a teddy bear. He glanced at Lucky, her long black hair veiling her face. Still she wore the black leather gloves. Whatever her fascination with them seemed relevant.

He sat at the foot of the bed and watched her. Her hands were balling into fists. He let out a sigh and pulled her shoes off. He tossed them to the side. He placed the bear next to her arms and the second she felt it, she pulled it close and curled around it.

Brushing away her hair she saw the slow pout of her lips and pooling tears in the corner of her eye. He removed her glasses and set it on the nightstand. He didn't realize how tired he was. She was small and yet her dead weight had wore him out. He wasn't even hungry, he just wanted to sleep. He walked around to the other side of the bed and fell asleep. His mind wandered to what Francine Garrett had said. “What she did for Vegas...”

It must have been a pretty big thing that she had done. He stared at the ceiling, letting time pass to the sound of her breathing. It almost seemed normal. Normal was forbidden without Carla though. Normal was taken away and in his final moments of consciousness, he felt himself get warm.

_“You were good to me. More than I thought was possible. And how did I repay you? I let the Legion feed the slave in me.”_


	9. Chapter 9

Boone had a week to think about what he heard Lucky speak about. The topic was personal, her opinion: twisted and corrupted. For someone to run off after tapping someone in two forms - it had to have been difficult to rationalize the actions. A tool? The words were spiteful, venomous, like she had never experienced bliss in its raw carnal form. It was if she was comparing both people biting at the same apple and one getting a hold while the other was being smacked in the face with the branch.

_“I'm glad we didn't speak about it. That was a position I never really wanted to be seen in. I couldn't handle it. I took my first time – which my father had always professed to be the one that wasn't to be toyed with - and used it as a weapon of destruction,”_ Lucky sighed. _“It took me years to realize that what had happened to me wasn't of my choosing. That it couldn't be taken by force, that it had to be given. And I did, to complete a task. No affection, no tenderness. I felt just like him. I used sex against Benny to destroy him. I'm no better than - “_ She muttered under her breath and lit another cigarette. _“One mile in my shoes would paint a picture of sacrilege and desecration. And love, there was love. In the most unbelievably violent sense of the word. I learned to love. I didn't fall into it. And I learned to hate and the two became a messy display of despair and violation._

_And to this day, I still do love the person who did this. I don't think I'm capable of not doing so. It's why I let him go when I saw him. Why I let him attempt to destroy me when I could have easily killed him. Your concept of love is foreign, a different language. What you and Carla had, I don't think I'm capable of that. Being with an enemy is like drinking mercury. It's poison and death._

_So was accepting his brand of love. It became the only thing I understood. He said he loved me and then would beat me again, rape me, cut me and then would acknowledge again that he was using me against my father. He was just waiting for him to screw up, so he could exact his own form of revenge. For what? I don't know.”_ She let out a small laugh and began playing with her lighter again. _“He was the lover in my bed and the gun to my head. He taught me how to think, how to breathe, how to feel, how to die. He was my world, the father figure, the teacher. He'd taken everything away from me and placed himself as the only thing I should ever consider caring about."_

Boone listened to her speak, cold prickles shivered down his spine as he listened to Lucky describe her youth. She sounded like a slave bereft of her master. As if she only knew concepts that a person would be told, but couldn't understand and yet, he'd seen it. Her opening up to the possibility of genuine affection, but the moment she noticed it she'd shut back down. He understood that completely. He felt that death was following on his heels, but never took him, just he ones he cared about.

_“I'm surprised it didn't dawn on you when we were at McCarran,”_ Lucky chortled and let out a sigh. _“I'm sorry about what happened. If I could take it back I would.”_

Boone rubbed his chin remembering what had happened. For a small person, she packed a helluva wallop. 

_“I hadn't been to McCarran in a long time. Not since I was a child. It looked different than when I was there last. You used to find Rangers there and I wondered if any of the people I'd known were still there. Or if they even remembered my dad._

_I never returned to tell them of his death. I couldn't bring myself to do it then, not with his blood on my hands. But now, I wasn't scared to do it. I could acknowledge it, give him the respect he deserved. That's why I went, I went to speak to the base commander.”_

A field of broken asphalt sprawled across the massive expanse that was Camp McCarran. The day was cloudy, cool and breezy as they walked towards the tents that littered the yard. Several soldiers walked about saluting as the pair passed. Lucky nodded politely and saw the large concourse looming ahead.

She looked around and bit the inside of her cheek. She looked almost overwhelmed at the scale of the place. Several soldiers stopped and watched her, waiting for what the civilian was going to do. 

“It's smaller than I remember,” Lucky murmured under her breath. She turned to Boone and let out a sigh. “You ever been here?”

Boone examined the area in silence. First Recon sharpshooters were looking at him in amusement. It had been awhile since he'd seen other snipers. They exchanged glances for a moment before Lucky tapped him on the shoulder.

“Yeah,” Boone finally replied. “A long time ago.”

Lucky looked at the unit watching them and smiled.

“Is that your unit?” she asked. 

Boone shook his head and uttered, “No.”

“Oh,” she said with a sullen look. She kicked a pebble and frowned. “You didn't have to come with me.”

“I know,” Boone replied. “It's – it's just been a long time.”

“Feeling nostalgic?” she smirked.

“Maybe,” he answered, giving her a strange look. “Or maybe it's because your carrying that damn chip that nearly got you killed the last time you had it.” He spit on the ground and the strange look on his face became more intense. “I think you're taking how dangerous that thing is for granted.”

The smirk faded from Lucky's face. She turned from him. Her head falling slightly as if trying to shake off her thoughts. She lit a cigarette and blew out hot smoke into the morning air. She let out a soft chuckle and kept walking.

“If it was going to kill me, it should probably try harder,” she remarked over her shoulder with a snide tone.

“Hey Sweet Tits!” one of the soldiers called out. The two looked at the woman calling to her. “You know how to pick your men. Why don't you come over here and let me show you how it feels to be a woman.”

“Sweet Tits?” Lucky muttered. She gave Boone a look and snorted. 

“Corporal!” another soldier yelled, diverting the woman's attention from them.

“Sorry, LT,” the corporal called plaintively. 

She trudged back into the tent and the man in charge offered a look of apology.

“Don't worry about it,” Lucky said with a wave.

Boone grabbed the door handle and allowed Lucky to enter. The concourse was cool, flood lights blasted the broken tiles in a heavy yellow glow. NCR soldiers scurried around to different locations. The whole place was buzzing with anxiety and excitement. A couple of soldiers from First Recon were coming from a nearby office. They saw Boone and saluted. They weren't from his unit either; last he'd heard they were back in California doing some stint near Baja.

Lucky looked around and wrapped herself in her arms. She looked nervous as she looked to the ceiling and then to the soldier guarding the door.

“I need to see the base commander,” she said.

“He's in his office under the escalator,” he answered.

She thanked him and nodded for Boone to follow. The door was slightly ajar and a man's voice came out. He was giving orders to someone else. They both waited until the order of dismissal was given and the soldier left the room. Lucky knocked on the door and again waited. She blew a piece of hair from her face and crossed her arms.

“Do you want to come in?” she asked softly.

Boone shook his head. “I'll wait here.”

“You sure?”

Boone shot her a look of frustration and nodded sharply.

“It's open,” the commander called. Lucky pressed the door open and stepped inside. 

Lucky closed the door and Boone turned to look at the entire building. Not much had changed since he was here last. The place was relatively unscathed from the bombs, but time had done its number on it to make up for it. He could taste the dust in the air along with the faint odor of jet fuel and gun oil. Rank under notes of food wafted through as a researcher carrying a tray to a lab passed by. That was something he definitely didn't miss during his brief stay here.

He was a new recruit, barely out of basic when he'd come to this resort to begin the second part of his First Recon training. Things looked so different back then. He was an idealist, wanting to make the Mojave a better place for his prospective children and their children. The NCR was the key to that in his mind, even though he was some punk kid from North Vegas with a very humble education. But they gave him what he needed, an education, the will to fight. The will to kill. It was a purpose for the betterment of all. And now he still had the will to fight, but the need to kill replaced necessity by far. His purpose didn't fly under NCR's banner, not after Bitter Springs and definitely not after Carla. His only drive was to die. 

It was reckless abandon he fought with. No one would mourn him, the action would be self-inflicted. Suicidal. He'd be at peace. Maybe. He'd accomplish what he couldn't before when it came to Carla. He should have died that day. Made the run, even if it meant his death, it would have been honorable. But if he died before he could get to Carla, she would be sold; their child a slave or trained by the Legion. That was worse than death and he would have failed in his ultimate goal.

He leaned against the side of the escalator and folded his arms. No matter how many times he'd argued about the best course of action it ended up with Carla dead physically or just a walking corpse to a man that had outbid a fellow soldier in something that no man should ever be given the chance to. He looked at the door that Lucky had gone through and shook his head. There was something off about her that he couldn't put his finger on, like she knew more about what happened or would happen to Carla than she let on. 

Before he could decide whether to question her later, a young private came darting past him. He flung the door open and panted. Lucky looked at Boone, her eyes shimmering softly in the florescent light. Whatever they were discussing had really bothered her. She turned away from him quickly and wiped her eyes.

“Sir!” a soldier yelped running into the room. “We're having a problem with the Centurian's interrogation.”

“What's wrong?” the man behind the desk asked, slamming a drawer shut. 

“Lieutenant Boyd can't get anything out of him. He just speaks in Latin and then mocks her in English,” the soldier replied. “Colonel, I think we might be at an impasse.”

“I know Latin. Do you want me to talk him?” Lucky offered with a shuddering sigh.

“Do you think you can talk to him?” the Colonel asked. He looked almost stunned by her admission. Boone felt the same way.

“I don't know. It's rusty, but I can give it a try,” she replied as she scratched her head. She gave Boone another glance and smiled softly. “He might just mock me because I'm a woman anyways.”

The colonel sat quietly and pondered what he was possibly getting himself in to. 

“We don't usually hire out to civilian contractors,” he started. He rubbed his finger through his graying black hair and sighed. He glanced at the desk drawer and his eyes shot up to the woman. “Alright. I'll let you have a shot at it. While you are taking care of that I'll see about your request, fair deal?”

“That's all I ask,” she replied. “Sir.”

She walked out the room, her eyes focused squarely on the tiles in front of her. She wrung her fingers nervously and feigned a smile that Boone could see right through.

He leaned in to her as they followed the private across the airport

“You know Latin?” he queried.

“Enough to get under a Legionary's skin,” she uttered with a snort.

_“My uncle used to be one of the Followers. When I couldn't go with Dad, I was with him; sometimes for more than a year at a time. I spent a lot of hours walking through California, Nevada, Utah and the parts of Arizona that Caesar hadn't shit on yet,”_ Lucky said in a soft tone. _“He was very smart, even worldly. Spoke with the tribes to learn if they had come up with any new medications from the local flora. Latin was just par for the course and I wasn't very good at it either. I picked up the tribal languages in the North faster and those were a hodgepodge of intermingled languages._

_He said I was like my dad. My real dad. I picked up languages easy and could spout them out as if I was born hearing them. He never really spoke about my biological father and even when I would ask, he refused every time. You know, he always had this look of shame when he was brought up. All he ever said was he didn't want me to be like him. He wanted me to do good in the world, not turn my back on what was important like my father had._

_It's funny, though. I don't really remember him. I couldn't tell you what he looked like, what he did or even his name. Whether I blocked it out like some traumatic experience or time actually washed away that memory I don't really know. I think about him once in awhile; try to force him into the forefront and sometimes certain smells or sayings would incite clarity, but nothing was ever concrete._

_I learned from my uncle how to heal, how to care. From my dad, I learned how to kill, how to survive. And the bitter lesson from my dad: don't be a fuck up and abandon what matters.”_ She let out a long, sorrowful laugh and uttered, _“Yeah, apparently I'm still working on that one. But the Legion... they taught me that none of that mattered in the end.”_

The pair looked through the glass at the Centurion. Boone's blood boiled at the sight of him. Lucky just stood there emotionless and fixated on him. The woman in the room was trying to goad him into a confession.

“Come on, Silus, why not come clean? You're already fucked by Caesar,” she asked between drags from her cigarette.

“Hardly, you stupid bitch,” Silus scoffed. “It's only a matter of time before...” He let out a laugh and shook his head in amusement.

“Something funny?” she remarked.

“No, just thinking,” he replied with a sneer.

“What about?” the officer replied.

“How you would look with a collar around your throat,” he answered.

He went on to describe in sickening detail how he'd trained his troops to apply the apparatus. How it made the slave feel; that it never let them get used to it. The interrogator just smirked, unphased by his comments. 

Boone looked at Lucky. She was rubbing her throat. The more Silus described how it worked, how it made him feel, the wider her eyes became. He placed his hand on her shoulder and she jumped. She gave him a stunned look and returned to listening to the interrogation without a word.

“Are you alright?” Boone asked. He frowned as she continued to trace around her neck. He didn't think she realized she was doing it.

“Yeah,” she replied softly and turned from him.

“You don't have to go in there, you know,” Boone said calmly. “No one's going to think any less if you don't.”

Just as she was about to respond, the interrogator came out. She looked frustrated. She dropped her cigarette on the ground and snuffed it with her heel.

“You must be the contractor,” she grumbled.

Lucky nodded with hesitation.

The Captain let out a sigh and went over the ground rules. No weapons. One person in at a time. No doubles. Don't kill the POW. Just get him to talk.

Boone watched Lucky continue to nod and took off her gear and set it on the table. She gave a final look to Boone and his heart nearly sank as she opened the door and stepped into the interrogation room. He approached the window and saw Lucky pulling a chair to sit across from him. Her whole demeanor changed before his eyes. She wasn't timid and withdrawn now, she was cold, callous. It was like she was planning her moves in a game of psychological chess.

The two stared at each other in silence. She pulled out a cigarette and lit it.

“What the hell do you want?” Silus barked.

“Answers,” she answered coldly. “And you are going to give 'em.”

“Hardly,” he scoffed.

“Hey, you want to be some pansy ass coward, be my guest,” she stated. “You have nothing to fear here. All those silly little rules about how they treat prisoners of war should make you feel nice and safe.”

“Fuck you. You're not NCR. Why are you helping them? You don't owe your allegiance to them,” he shot with a mouth full of venom.

“You're right, I don't. But I would be more worried about where your own allegiances lie, right now, Silus,” she warned. She got up from her chair and came to the window. He could see she was trying to stay ahead of the game.

“You stupid whore! What did we do?! Kill your family?! Take your land?! What is it?! Why do you so vehemently hate us when you know we're right,” he spat. “Caesar would have your head on a pike for helping these fools.”

“I'm not worried about it. Joshua Graham could come marching in here using the same threats and I still would be unmoved by your asinine questions,” she said with a shrug. She let out a sigh and took her seat again. She folded her arms. She knew it was his move now.

“The Burned Man would destroy you with no threat,” Silus threatened.

“Are you sure he wouldn't kill you first? I mean you were captured alive after all. Aren't you supposed to kill yourself to evade capture?” she questioned.

“I'm not a coward. Those people will die for Caesar. I'm not that weak,” he answered with a growl. Lucky rubbed her brow and muttered something so soft that Silus had to lean in. “What are you saying, you bitch? Let your betters hear you, if you have nothing to fear.”

“Legum servi sumus, Silus,” she repeated louder. “Caesar won't be pleased that you broke his law. I'd pity you if he'd found out. Which he probably has.”

Silus fell back in his chair, stunned by what she had said.

“Frumentarius? Decanus?” he stuttered out.

“Does it matter? I'm here now. So speak,” she ordered.

Silus thought for a moment, his head falling back slightly. He was weighing his options carefully and then growled loudly in anger. Lucky just stared at him an amused little grin on her face. Her foot bounced as she waited and then looked at Boone and Boyd.

“Alright,” Silus uttered. “there's something wrong with Caesar. He sleeps all day, sometimes for days at a time. He complains of headaches and it takes days for orders to be given to anyone in the field, because he's bed ridden. I'm not going to sacrifice myself for inept leadership. 

I mean look at what's going on here. If Caesar had been doing what he's supposed to, I wouldn't be here. But then, he sends you, a woman, to taunt me for my failure.” Lucky let out a sigh and got up from her chair. Captain Boyd nodded approvingly and left the room. Lucky gave Boone a look and smiled. She started for the door but Silus stopped her. “I would love to be there when Caesar kills you.”

Boone saw Lucky's holstered .44 on the table. He saw Silus grinning and Lucky staring at the door.

“Why? He's taken everything else,” she murmured. “I've got nothing to lose now. Let him try.”

Boone grabbed the gun and opened the door for her. He was going to kill the son of a bitch. The NCR didn't need him anymore; they got what they wanted and he could tell that the Centurion's words had cut his friend deeply. It would be one more Legion asshole to be put down like the mongrel he was. 

He rushed into the room and pointed the gun at Silus who did nothing but taunt him with a sneer. He pulled the hammer back, every muscle going still as he began to squeeze the trigger. From out of the corner of his eye, he saw a blur rapidly approaching and then an impact strike him across the face. The sound of the gun discharging cracked through the concrete room. And then felt another smack as his head hit the concrete.

He felt a heavy weight on him that nearly took his breath away and then cold steel on his throat. He looked at the person on him, thinking it was an NCR soldier restraining him, but saw the blue eyes of Lucky staring at him. She looked like a caged animal, the look of frantic terror surging through her eyes. It was a contemptible fire he felt as she pressed the blade tighter to his jugular.

“You can't,” she whispered. “You can't kill him.”

“Lucky?” he questioned. She grabbed his wrist and squeezed firmly. “This is why I joined you. He needs to die.”

Silus began laughing. It was a rage inducing sound that had Boone shaking in anger, but he didn't struggle under his friend.

“Look at her. Defending me, even though she wishes me dead,” the centurion snorted. “I know that look well. Seen it many times. It's quite alarming how someone like her is still alive. She'd make a good officer's slave.”

“You can't do it. They will kill you,” she insisted. “They will take you, give you a blade and make you decide: slit your own throat or let the dogs come. It won't matter; they will come, regardless and all that will be left is your bloody screams. Then you'll wish they had killed you.”

“Lucky?!” Boone yelped.

“I can't watch that again. They'll force it. Hit you if you look away,” she droned. A single drop of blood ran from her nose. She shuddered forcefully. “I'm sorry. I wouldn't want you to go through that.”

She crawled off of him and stood. She slide her blade back into her boot and reached down to help him up. Boone was still stunned by what had happened. He looked at her hand and then at the woman looking down with a pleading whimper. Her jacket was open and numerous slashing scars were ripped across her chest. He took her hand and was almost ready to smack her when she walked over to her gun and let out a sigh. Small droplets of blood fell to the ground as she picked up her weapon and made her way to the door.

Boone followed her in silence, giving Silus a final glare before walking back on to the concourse. Lucky was leaning against a wall. Her eyes closed and the familiar look of pain was written across her face. She rubbed the corner of her eyes and placed a lit cigarette to her lips.

“What the fuck was that?” Boone snapped. Lucky didn't look at him. She pulled her hat down lower over her face and took another drag from her cigarette. “Answer me!”

She looked out of the corner of her eye at him and the intense frown grew.

“I can't,” she snapped back. She lifted her eyebrow and pushed from the wall. “We need to get your injuries taken care of.” Boone rubbed the side of his throat where her knife had been placed and felt a tacky liquid running down his throat. He pulled his fingers back and saw the small coagulating blood on his finger tips. He shot Lucky a look. She'd cut him, in her frantic panic, she'd actually cut him. “I'd take care of it myself, but I'm the last person you want touching you.”


	10. Chapter 10

They walked into the concourse in silence. Lucky held her arm to her face to shield it or to blot the blood dripping from her nose. She didn't look at Boone, her gun still in her hand as they walked into the main body of the airport. A young woman was sitting on a bench near the door crying. Lucky didn't have the curiosity or gumption to ask what was wrong, she just looked around.

She pulled her arm from her face and Boone finally saw blood dripping down her chin. She glimpsed him out of the corner of her eye and mumbled obscenities under her breathe. Boone brushed away a few strands of black hair that had stuck her face and Lucky flinched. He didn't know how she had gotten hurt, nor did he remember the exact events that led up to her bleeding all over the concourse. He just remembered getting hit and her looming over him.

“Are you alright?” he asked. Lucky stuck up a finger to stop his questioning. With her eyes glazing over, she ran to a nearby trash can. He stood there as she bent over and began spitting furiously into it. She wretched and gagged and after she had paused long enough to gasp for breath, he came up to her. He was about to place his hand on her back when he saw that she was tapping the barrel of her gun to her thigh. “Another headache?”

Lucky shook her head and spit again.

“I'm fine,” she answered with a wavering voice.

“Let me look,” Boone insisted. He put his hands on her shoulders and carefully began to turn her towards him. Her arm shot back up to her face and she shook her head. “Please?”

“Are you a doctor?” her muffled voice asked. Her large eyes were bloodshot and watering as she looked at him. She looked like a child staring at him, nearly weak and afraid. Pain was apparent; along with the small spatters of blood that had dotted her cheeks like freckles from her coughing. “I can deal with it myself.”

“Are you okay?” the woman on the bench questioned.

“He needs a doctor,” Lucky replied and pointed at Boone.

“It's not that bad. It looks almost like a shaving cut,” he remarked. “You're the one that's bleeding everywhere.”

“No I'm not,” Lucky argued. “I've swallowed most of it.”

Boone felt his stomach wrench. That was a disgusting admission. She just stared at him.

“If I may,” the woman interrupted. “The doctor is just over there.” She pointed to the left of the mess area. “I hope you feel better, ma'am.”

Lucky nodded and started in the direction of the clinic with Boone trailing behind her. He kept looking at the gun in her hand and then to the small trail of blood drops she was creating. She walked behind the screen and cleared her throat. A gray-haired man was sitting on a bench with his back to them.

“Doc, I've got a guy here with a small neck injury,” she said. “It's small, but I'd like it -” The doctor turned toward her and she came to a dead stop. She took a step backward and bumped into Boone.

“What's wrong?” he whispered in her ear.

She didn't move. Her whole body became ridged. It was like she was incapable of doing anything. The doctor got up and looked closer at the two of them. He set down a clipboard on the bench and waved Lucky over.

“No, not me, him. I can take care of myself,” Lucky growled. The doctor came up to her and gently pulled her arm away. He recoiled at the sight and it was an interesting enough response that even Boone – against his own better judgment – went around her so he could see what had happened. He sharply inhaled at the amount of blood that had caked around her face, but Lucky seemed like it didn't bother her. “Hi, Doctor Kemp,” she murmured softly.

“I thought it was you,” Doctor Kemp stated with relief. “How have you been?”

Kemp led her to a gurney and patted for her to hop up on it. She looked at Boone with an unfamiliar softness. It was like she had regressed ten years. She seemed smaller, more helpless, than when she had left the interrogation room. Kemp looked down and saw the gun in her hand and frowned.

“Do you want me to take that?” Boone asked, extending his hand.

Lucky's hand tightened around the grip, like a mother holding her child's hand.

“No. It'll be alright,” the doctor insisted. “Come on now, let's get you cleaned up.”

Lucky sat on the gurney and Doc Kemp went to a supply cabinet and began to rummage around.

Boone examined his friend. Her head hung, blood dripped on to her gloves. Her gun sat beside her within arms reach. Her ankles swung slowly back and forth. He came to her and placed his hands to either of her legs and sighed.

“Were you really concerned?” she asked without looking up at him. She blew a bloody droplet from her upper lip. “About the chip.”

He slumped slightly and shook his head. He didn't know how he felt. Sure, the damn thing nearly got her killed once and there were many people who would love to get their dirty hands on it; she would have been collateral damage, like before.

“I was being straight up with you,” he replied. “That thing is dangerous.”

“What isn't anymore?” she queried back. She pulled her glasses from her face and squinted at him. “I'm dangerous. You're dangerous. That's dangerous,” she remarked, pointing to her gun. She shuddered softly and began twisting her fingers anxiously. “I'm sorry about cutting you.”

“Yeah about that. What happened? How did you end up like this?” he asked. He placed a hand on hers and squeezed.

“It's a-a-a long story. I don't ask you about your wife or anything right?” she spat.

“No, you haven't,” he answered.

“It's not my place to ask,” she stated. “If I was really that interested I would.”

Boone took off his beret and scratched his head. He leaned his back against the gurney and saw the doctor nosing around in a cupboard. 

“What do you want to know?” he queried as he folded his arms.

“I said I wasn't that interested,” she snapped loudly. Doc Kemp turned at the commotion and shook his head. He turned and had a large tray with gauze and water and rubber gloves. “I just want the day to be over with.”

“Alright,” Kemp said as he pulled a stool over and sat. “You're going to need to move.”

Boone stepped to the side and made his way to a bench. He watched as the doctor donned his gloves and proceeded to pour water onto a pad of gauze and began washing away the drying blood from her face. He knew they were talking by how Lucky was nodding her head. A couple of times she would answer with a small glance in his direction, but that was about it. She didn't smile, or laugh, just seemed distant as the man continued to work.

Kemp stood and pushed the tray aside and Lucky pulled her gloves off. The doctor examined them. He turned each over one by one and smiled. She put her gloves back on and he handed her a bottle of water. She placed it to her lips and swished it around. She leaned over a small pan and spat pink water into it. Doc patted her knee and then made his way to Boone.

“Alright, come over here,” he ordered with a wave.

“Did she say what happened?” Boone asked as he continued to watch Lucky wash her mouth out.

“She did,” he looked back at Lucky as well for an instant and then at Boone. His eyebrows furrowed as he pulled out a second set of latex gloves. “She said it was her fault.”

“She said that?” he questioned.

“There's blood on the cylinder of that gun,” Kemp explained as he turned Boone's head away from him. “She looks like she'd been pistol whipped.” The doctor glared at him accusingly. A coarse gauze pad soaked in alcohol ran down his throat. “She also said you took her gun and she hit you.”

“She did and pulled a knife,” Boone admitted. The doc's hands left the side of his face and returned to normal. The doctor was watching Lucky again. She was getting off the gurney and adjusting her bloody jacket. Her hands scrounged around her pockets and came to her breast pocket. Her fingers snuck inside and pulled out a cigarette. She reached into her jeans pocket and pulled out her lighter. “I've never seen anyone act like that before.”

“I'm surprised she even said that much,” Kemp replied with a frown. He shook his head as Lucky lit her smoke and walked around the medical area. “When she came in she wouldn't or couldn't talk. Beside the fact that she was nearly dead she just was a traumatized child.”

“That's nothing new,” Boone grumbled.

Doctor Kemp shot him a look and threw the gauze on the gurney. He snatched a clean one and doused it in water. He began cleaning the blood and alcohol away and frowned.

“No. She had lost a lot of blood. When her father brought her in, she looked like someone had run her through a meat grinder. Cuts, compound fractures and every time she moved she made the problem worse. It took four men to hold her down just so I could sedate her,” the doctor explained. “Back then, we didn't have the facilities to handle that kind of trauma. I had at first told her father that she probably wasn't going to survive the night, but he wouldn't give up. 

It was several hours of cleaning just to see where the wounds began and she ended.” Boone closed his eyes and shook his head. “The things we discovered after we got her stabilized...” he paused and shuddered. His eyes teared up slightly as he remembered back to that time. “It might have been a mercy to just let her die and no one that was there that night was ever same.”

Lucky walked up to the two men and examined them briefly.

“I'm going to see the Colonel. I'll be back,” she said.

“Don't worry about him. He'll be with you shortly,” Kemp stated. Lucky nodded and headed back to the terminal. The doctor returned his attention to Boone. “We had to put her in a medically induced coma that didn't completely work while her bones were set. She would scream about dogs in her sleep. She would just yell that Papa was going to get her and he was going to kill her and feed her dad to the dogs. That girl was damaged. She wouldn't even let her father touch her.”

“She said something about dogs today when she attacked me,” Boone admitted.

“I'm not surprised. But even those utterances were far and few between and only when she slept. When she was awake, she never spoke. She was almost catatonic. Weeks of silence accompanied with the thousand yard stare just made life even more unbearable for her father,” Kemp said with a melancholic tone. 

“She stayed here for a couple of months out of the eyes of the soldiers that were starting to come in. The biggest breakthrough for both of us came when we allowed her to walk around outside. As long as she wasn't underfoot, we figured the sunlight would do her good.

She saw a small squad of soldiers that were getting settled in. She still had braces on her legs and she still had enough gauze and bandages to make her look like one of those mummies out of the old Pre-War horror movies. Her father was never more than a couple of feet away from her at all times. He just watched her stare at the recruits. 

When you measured the size of her then to what the average thirteen old was, she looked stunted. Probably from the continuous breaks and malnutrition she'd received.”

XXXXX

_“I walked up to him, nervous, obviously after what had happened to me, drawing attention to myself in fear of retribution would have been the last thing on my mind,”_ Lucky said. _“Something about him just made me feel warm, safe. He was youthful and laughed, strong. Even though his eyes said something else, like hesitation and anticipation. Kind of like my dad. I pulled on his jacket and at first, he didn't respond. I didn't know if he noticed me and it had taken a lot of energy just to do it once._

_It wasn't until one of the other guys in the unit pointed me out. He drew the attention of the others and they all just kind of stared, like I was some freak that had escaped its cage. Even through their ignorance, they have no idea how correct they were in that matter. The recruit turned and looked at me. He didn't make a face, he just looked down at me, maybe he was a little worried about my condition. I don't know; I'm not a mind reader._

_He looked me in the eye. It was the first time someone had done that since Papa. But there wasn't a vacant, heartlessness there. It was softer, like I didn't have to be scared of them."_

“What is it, kid?” the soldier asked. He smiled gently at her, but didn't look away. It was like he wasn't disgusted by the dirty bandages or blackened whites.

“You look lost,” Lucky muttered. 

The soldier just looked at her, confused by what she had uttered. She looked away from him when another soldier came up from behind the first.

“Jesus Christ, man, what happened to her?” the second asked more with amusement than concern. “Did you find yourself a girlfriend already? Damn, I am envious of your way with women. You've even got little girls walking up to you to talk.”

“Can it!” the first snapped. He folded his arms and thought for a moment.

_“He almost seemed embarrassed then. He could have told me to leave and I would have. I wasn't normal anymore. I was just a beat up person with no identity,”_ Lucky stated. 

“Hey, Vargas, do we still have any of those teddy bears we give to the kids in the settlements?”the soldier asked.

Vargas nodded and went into the tent. Lucky was apprehensive about the noise the recruit was making. She looked up at the soldier watching her and he smiled sweetly. It was strange; like he could see through the bandages and bruises to the girl that was under there. Vargas returned with a small teddy bear. It had a red bow around its neck and the cute little smile plastered across his face. He handed it to the soldier and shook his head in amusement. 

The soldier bent down to her eye level and frowned. It wasn't against her, but what had been caused to her. He held up the teddy bear and Lucky stared at it. She didn't know what to do; she hadn't been offered anything in years without being punished for someone's entertainment. Her fingers twitched nervously as she reached out for it. Her eyes kept darting between the bear and the man, waiting for him to punish her for even considering taking it. She looked to the man standing behind her like she didn't know what to do.

“It's alright, honey,” a man off to the side stated.

Lucky stared at the bear and felt hot tears start to fall. The soldier went to wipe them away and she became rigid. The soldier looked at the man briefly, likely questioning what had caused her hypervigilance. He hushed her gently and placed the teddy to her chest, making it seem like it was giving her a hug. She put her arms around it and he noticed her wincing in pain.

“Are you going to keep the bad men away?” she asked.

“I'm going to try my damnedest,” he answered. He let out a sigh and stood. Her eyes followed his every movement. “I'm sure just like your father over there, we're going to make sure the bad men can't get to people like you anymore.” He looked at Vargas over his shoulder and shook his head. “You just protect that bear for me, okay?”

Lucky nodded and toddled back to her father, who seemed elated by her speaking for the first time.

_“I hadn't said anything to anyone in almost four years. I wasn't allowed to. The first person I open up to wasn't my father, but a person I knew had to go. The rest of his group was already gearing up. Vargas had his rifle and was getting ready to hand another to the soldier,”_ Lucky told her friend.

“You ready to go, Boone?” Vargas asked as the soldier took his weapon.

Boone looked at the little girl and smiled.

“Yeah, I'll be right there,” he replied.

XXXXXX

Boone didn't realize that he'd been staring at the pictures laid out on the desk. It was like a natural progression and decimation of a person's life – her life. The once vibrant – possibly bubbly – youth; grinning with her two front teeth missing. Beautiful, innocent, happy. 

“Ogden. Ogden?” Boone questioned. 

He didn't or couldn't remember where that was. Why would a desert ranger go up that way? Sure, he'd heard of the place, but that was where New Canaan was. He'd only heard about them briefly while he was in the military. They were insular, good fighters, but strange. Not like other Wasteland cults, but highly religious. At least, that's what Lucky had told him after she'd come back from Utah. 

He looked at the bandaged little girl looking at the soldier and barely remembered a little girl like that. She was eerie, withdrawn. Every movement he made, she scrutinized. The girl's father looked shocked and relieved when she'd spoke. Why couldn't he remember the little girl as well as Lucky could? So many different situations had clouded his memory till there was nothing but bloodied gauze and large, vacant child eyes staring up at him.

Lucky had given him the same look before. It tugged at him, made him hate himself for forgetting. Made him loathe time. It was one of the turning points in his life that made him know that he was working to improve the lot of the Mojave. She was a catalyst, this was what he was working for. His eyes drifted up to the teddy bear and his heart broke.

_“Do you get it now?”_ Lucky asked. _“Do you get why I did what I had to for you? Because you didn't see some broken girl who'd been terrorized. My own dad didn't want to look at me because of his shame. He was supportive, but distant. Just keeping me at arm's reach._

_The teddy bear. The photo. All were the things that kept me going after I killed my father. I didn't think I'd see you again. With the Legion around life expectancy is pretty short for NCR.”_

Boone turned from the Pip-Boy. He didn't know. She didn't tell him. He had no idea why she was telling him all of this now. It didn't matter, he was leaving; their adventures were over. Even she had said that after they got back to the 38. Adventures? The way she had said it was like she was trying to put distance between the two of them.

He agreed. She had helped him with Carla, but they both knew that he was still coming to terms with her death. Lucky told him that he was married to the city now, as if it was some joke. Of course he wasn't going to leave the place where he was the happiest, where the moments of Carla still lingered in every flickering, fluorescent light bulb. He wasn't going to stray far from it. Like he should have for Carla.

He found himself unknowingly panting. His heart felt like it was going to burst from his chest. He picked up the photo of the Dam and shook his head. They were together, always together, except for when they weren't. She always had her reasons for not bringing him, but for the most part they were inseparable. He liked it, he felt like he was useful. He was protective of his friend and she was to him. Maybe their reasoning were different, but the same message was emoted. They cared, but couldn't do anything about it. He was grieving, she was incapable. At times, he found himself looking down at her, more worried about her well-being than for his own. At others, he was comparing Lucky to Carla. It almost seemed involuntary. You spend enough time with someone and the thoughts do tend to pop up.

_“So, yeah, Abby, was me. I took the name Lucky after Dad died. It seemed almost fitting and woefully ironic. Everyone has told me I should be dead, whether it's from my doctor, or others I've met in passing it always seemed to be the same. 'You should be dead.' And it's ironic in the sense that I've been shot, stabbed, raped, hung, strangled, beaten, and lost every important father figure I've had is Mojave dust,”_ Lucky stated. _“And no matter how many times you told me you were chasing down death, I wasn't going to let you die, not at Bitter Springs and not at the Fort. You had to live so the memories of your wife and child could live. If I'd have died, little to nothing would have changed. You just wouldn't know about me, what I've done._

_I figured it was time to let someone know in case...”_


	11. Chapter 11

_“After what had happened at McCarran, I had to take a break. From you, from worrying about the Legion and NCR; I just wanted it to stop. I wandered going around the Mojave, gathering my bearings, regretting the things that had brought me here,”_ Lucky said with a sorrowful sigh.

She'd left him on her excursions, taking Veronica and ED-E with her and leaving him to his own devices on the Strip. Walking the floors of the Presidential Suite became nothing more than a surrogate for walking the floors of his small room in Novac. He dreaded it and left to wander North Vegas where he'd lived. 

Rows of bungalows hugged the shattered sidewalks. A small patch of “fertile” earth birthed small stalks of corn. An old oil barrel flashed its hypnotic and fiery dance. The street lights flickered and buzzed as he made his way home. His family left after he'd joined the military. There was nothing there to keep them grounded. He was grown and the road would be their home from then on.

He heard the music from the Strip floating over the larger concrete slabs that made up New Vegas' walls. He found himself humming – an event that happened ever so rarely even when Carla was around. He wanted to know if his home still stood, maybe he'd move back there after Lucky was done having her way with him. 

A twitchy man was stumbling around the street and began to approach Boone. He scratched his arms, his shoulders, in rapid unsatisfied swipes.

“Hey, man. Do you have any caps you can spare?” the junkie begged. “They're for my kids and...”

“I don't think so,” Boone scoffed with disgust. 

It was obvious the man was strung out and hadn't considered at least attempting to clean himself. Dirty broken finger nails continued to claw and the pungent smell of piss and excrement emanated from him like a toxic cloud. Boone held his breath and tried to walk around the man, but the man stopped him. He put his hand to the sniper's chest and gave him another look. This time it was more grave than the hopped up deer in the headlights appearance he'd given before. 

“Now look here, man. I just need the caps, just a few. Don't care how many you got,” the man stammered out. His breath became ragged and from behind his back you pulled out a large kitchen knife. “Now you give them to me and nothing bad has to happen 'ere, got me?”

Boone's eyes fell on the knife and to the wild eyed man who was beginning to froth slightly at the corners of his mouth. He didn't blink, he reached into his pocket and felt around through the pockets of lint to the few caps Lucky had given him. He'd planned on using it for a bottle of absinth he'd seen at the Wrangler. He let out a disappointed sigh and handed them to the jumpy man. 

His fingers were twitching so frantically that several of the caps fell to the ground. The stung out mugger flew to the ground, muttering all sorts of nonsense to himself. Boone made his exit as quickly as he could before his assailant had noticed. He hurried away, putting as much distance as he could between the two of them. He looked over his shoulder a couple of times to see if the man was following, but found that the addict had disappeared. 

He continued forward, letting the setting sun lead his path to a small farmstead on the north side of Vegas. The small structure had fallen into complete disrepair. The once pale yellow stucco walls were littered with graffiti and other things he didn't want to think about. One of the walls had crumbled down and exposed what was once a quaint living area. He stuck his head in and inhaled the deep essence of nostalgia. Pulling off his sunglasses, he looked around the dim room and saw the few scattered toys that had once filled his life with joy. Part of him was surprised that the scavengers hadn't picked the place clean for the few caps that the worthless crap would bring them.

He took his first uncertain step into the living room through the broken wall and stood on the hard concrete. He remembered their being a ratty carpet by the door that was absent. The only thing remaining in its absence was an ever fading void where it had laid for as long as he could remember. He walked back toward where the kitchen was and found that even under the layers of dust everything was the way it had been the day he had left.

He sat on the counter and pulled off his beret. His hands rang it tightly as he thought about his life. The things he'd done, the things he'd lost. Carla. The baby. Manny “Fuck Him” Vargas. Bitter Springs. Pulling the trigger. Hating. Being spiteful. 

Then he thought about Lucky and what Doc Kemp had said. Her innocence lost. That she'd have been better off dead. He looked at his hands and moved them around the doctor had done to her. Her hesitation when she'd seen him. Even that terrified look when she'd pinned him down in front of Silus. The sound of the gun going off, the smell of gun powder. The blood. There was so much of it and she hadn't flinched. He didn't even realize he'd done anything to her.

He tried to replay the scene in his head. Had he hit her with the gun? He couldn't remember. He was in such a state that he was only snapped to by how forceful she had been.

“To hell with it,” he muttered, hopping from the counter and heading back to the living area. 

Through the large hole in the wall, he saw that night had finally come to pass. He wondered if Lucky and the others had made it back from Red Rock Canyon. All Lucky said was she was working on a deal and that he couldn't go.

“Not a snowball's chance in Hell am I letting you step into the Great Khan camp. I don't need that past bullshit fucking things up,” she'd told him.

That was three days ago and she hadn't come back. He shook his head and returned back to the street. There wasn't anything tying him to that place anymore. He walked, his pace sluggish, back to the Strip. The Securitrons whizzed around him as he went through the gate and back to the 38.

The elevator creaked and jerked. Every floor was chimed off and the broken speakers kept spewing their off-key tunes. He folded his arms and awaited another night alone. He thought about it for a moment another night by himself. And he found that he hated it. He wasn't being useful. Lucky wasn't there to keep him line. Carla wasn't there to do all the talking. It was just him and the illusions of the bottle of absinth he failed to purchase. 

Everything had broken down into disillusion since he'd left Novac. He'd grown numb. Uncaring. Even Lucky doubted him about those type of feelings. Just like he doubted if she was even capable of having a single one. He didn't know if she trusted him, nor if he could trust her in kind. She was always so damn isolated, speaking little and only coming out of that damn master bedroom to leave the Lucky 38 or grab something to eat.

He thought about it long and hard while his subconscious ticked off the chimes of dread that were building as he approached home sweet home. Another night. He might as well just leave if he has no use for him anymore.

He snorted at the idea at the same time the elevator doors rolled open. ED-E was flying by and was the first to notice the lonesome man standing in the middle of the elevator car. He skittered and chirped with excitement. Veronica peered around the corner at him and sighed.

Boone stayed silent and brushed away the exhuberant eyebot. It followed him around as he began walking into the different rooms on the floor. He finally came to a stop outside of Lucky's room. He hesitated to knock and glanced at ED-E.

“Is she in there?” he asked. He didn't even know if the stupid thing understood what he was saying.

“Yeah, she is,” Veronica replied from behind him. “She says she's busy.”

“Doing?” Boone asked turning to the Scribe with a lifted eyebrow.

“Does it matter?” another woman fired. She took a long swig of whiskey and walked between the two and headed for the far room. “What are you? Her boss?”

Boone looked at Veronica with confusion.

“Cass,” was all she responded with.

He felt dejected. People showing up, unannounced. A drunk broad traipsing through as if she was the one in charge. He put his hand to the door and grumbled to himself. From the other side, he heard Lucky talking and then a man would speak up. He couldn't understand what they were saying, but the more he listened the more lighthearted he heard Lucky's voice get. And then it hit him. Laughter. Her laughter. It was something he'd never heard from her before. It was melodic and soft and even the jovial tone had hints of sadness in them.

“Alright, we'll head out tomorrow then,” Lucky acknowledged, as her voice drew closer to the door.

Boone took a step back and the door swung open. Lucky was looking at him, a stunned expression on her face; in her hand was a large duffle bag. A man came from behind the door and stopped when he saw her friend standing there.

“Hey,” she said softly. “Where've you been?”

“Out,” It was the only word Boone could muster in his utterly hidden amusement.

“Lucky?” the blonde man interrupted.

“Oh, right! Craig Boone. Arcade Gannon,” she introduced. They didn't even exchange pleasantries. 

“What's in the bag?” Boone asked.

“Medical supplies. Some books. Toys for the kids,” Lucky replied, looking at her care package.

“Where you off to, then?” he questioned.

“Bitter Springs. Do you want to come tomorrow?” she answered with a slightly hopeful tone.

Boone stepped aside and in silence shook his head. The mere idea of Bitter Springs made his blood run cold. He was there every night when he was able to sleep. If flashes of Carla's death didn't torment him. The clusterfuck massacre that was Bitter Springs always tended to pick up the slack. He turned from her, nearly wounded by the sheer thought of it. He headed off in the direction that Cass had went. He hoped that the redhead had more whiskey he could mooch off of her.

“Be careful!” Veronica called out.

A hulking blue mass moved from around the corner in his direction. He was staring at it so closely that his eyes began to blur from how close they were. He smelled bighorner shit and other pungent aromas. Then he heard the breathing. It was heavy, labored breathing.

“Little Pumpkin?! Who is this?” the behemoth spoke with a growl.

He heard Lucky come up behind him and stop at the door. She let out a sigh and even he could hear the frown forming on her face.

“This is Boone, Lily,” she answered. “He's a friend” She paused and lit a cigarette. Boone looked up at Lily cautiously and took a step back, nearly bumping into Lucky in the process.

“Holy shit,” he uttered.

“Don't stare. The nightkin don't like that. It makes them nervous,” Lucky warned with a hiss. She poked him gently in the back. It was so soft that it made his skin tingle slightly.

“Awww! Grandma wouldn't hurt one of your friends, sweetie,” Lily said. She gave Boone a suspscious look that sent shivers down the veteran soldier's spine.

“I know you wouldn't,” Lucky replied back. “Have you taken your medicine yet?” The nightkin growled and turned away from his friend. “Lily?”

“The medication makes my memory fuzzy,” Lily sulked.

“I know,” Lucky replied. She let out another sigh and began to head toward her room. “We'll discuss it later, okay?” Lily grumbled out inaudibly and went to sit on the couch. “You are coming with right?”

“Yes, Pumpkin,” Lily answered back.

“Alright, we'll see you in the morning then.” Lucky gave Boone a look and the soft smile she'd been holding faded. “I guess you'll be here by yourself again.”

The idea was dreadful. He didn't want to go; he couldn't. Even the downcast eyes she was now giving him didn't ebb the lack of wanting to go. She didn't beg, she just let her shoulders drop with disappointment and went back to her room.

“I'm sorry,” he uttered to her under his breath.

One by one the lights began to go out till he was standing in the hallway by himself. The only light that seemed to break the darkness was the Securitron with the cowboy face on it standing by the door.

“Why are you standing out here? Don't you have some other place to be?” Cass asked from behind him. He gave her a quick glance and saw her leaning against the door jamb. The thick, sticky smell of whiskey rode on her breath as she spoke.

“Don't worry about it,” he snapped back.

“Why don't you quit being a man-boy and just go in there and fuck around with her. From the looks of the two of you, you both need it,” the drunk woman protested.

Boone went to say he wasn't interested in her like that, but thought better of it. He just nodded and walked to Lucky's room. He didn't bother knocking this time. He let the door swing open. The faintest of dim lights from the desk lamp beside him flickered softly. He saw her on the bed, her dingy white night shirt on. The pale flesh of her legs glistened gently in the wallowing illumination. He saw the vacant couch and closed the door behind him. 

He sat down and propped his feet on the table. He saw her camera resting on the desk and closed his eyes. Snapshots. That's all memories were: pictures that moved but remained still. Just like he had. He'd stagnated, but the memories were like an inescapable flood that always seemed ready to drown him. He had to do something to make peace with that certain things on his own. Even if it meant going to Bitter Springs and facing down what he'd done.


	12. Chapter 12

Boone awoke to a dim room. People spoke outside the door as if he wasn't there. He groaned loudly and lifted his head from the back of the couch. He rubbed the strain from his neck and felt the warmth of the large comforter laid upon his lap. A ratty teddy bear was pressed into his hip and he could smell Lucky's scent all over the memento. 

He stood and looked around the room and saw that the duffle bag that held all the keepsakes was gone. He let out a sigh and opened the door to Lucky's room. Lily was the first to greet him. She turned to face him and the scowl she had turned into a sneer. Veronica came out of the dining area and watched the empty exchange between the two.

“I thought you were going with them,” Boone asked, his voice still bore the remnants of his exhaustion.

“The medication made me woozy. Little Jimmy wanted me to stay here till I felt better,” the nightkin replied. Boone folded his arms and looked to the Scribe. She mouthed Lucky and continued into the game room. “So then she's already gone?”

Boone rang for the elevator and watched as the dial slowly moved as the elevator car made its rickety trek up the shaft. One of these days, this damn thing is going to crash and kill whoever is in it, he thought. The Victor bot watched him, its arms twitched, unsettling Boone with its garish glow. He grabbed his rifle from beside the door. It wasn't long before the doors opened with a shudder. 

He stepped on and waited, again. It seemed to take longer than when he was to get on. He ran off the elevator before the doors had completely opened and out onto the Strip. He knew they were going to Bitter Springs, but had no clue of when they had left. The lead they had on him seemed daunting, but he knew how to get there. It wasn't something that he would forget.

He walked the road, picturing the soldiers of his squad with him. It was almost like a dirge of footsteps, the rattle of dogtags and jingle of loose ammunition. The places he'd been to, like Camp Golf had sprouted up and matured into a large installation. Training was breaking the peaceful slumber of a late morning. Gunfire and hand grenades blew large plumes of dust into the air. It was a resort he regretted being sent to. 

Boone kept walking as he tried to leave that part of his past behind him and enter another a chapter that should have never been written. He tried not to think, not to remember all the bullshit that had befallen that stretch of world, that damn refugee camp. His thoughts only ceased when he came across the first signs of combat. Blood. His eyes followed the trail until he saw a body laying in the middle of the road. His breathe hitched and he hurried to it. He couldn't tell with the glare of the sun in his eyes if it was a civilian or soldier, or Lucky. 

The closer he came he saw the fine musculature of the corpse and then the spiked tail. “Fuck.” He stopped dead and pulled his gun. He looked around to see if any of its friends were around and sprinted as fast as he could past the train yard. He heard growling in the distance and heavy foot steps drawing closer. He didn't want to look behind him. The amount of dread and terror pushed his heart to near bursting. 

He saw the graveyard of campers and cars in the distance. He knew he was almost there. He had to make it. He had to tell Lucky. He had to tell someone about Bitter Springs – his other major failure. 

He couldn't tell Carla, didn't want her to know that dark shadow that he carried. Didn't want her perspective of him to change. She was the best thing to happen to him. He was a liar and a thief. He didn't deserve her and he did everything he could to make sure he never let her find out the details. His cross; his burden.

He saw the first signs of Bitter Springs, the large wooden sign that pointed him in the direction that drew him closer to his personal circle of hell. He could hear children, living children, not the ghosts of those he killed. He hesitated. It was a gateway he dreaded opening. 

On the top of the hill, he saw a woman with the children. She stopped and looked at him. She waved slowly and the small throng of children swarmed around her. Her attention became split and she hurried away with them. 

Boone began the slow walk up the hill and saw Lucky running around chasing the children. She was out of breath, but happy. Bubbly. It was a side he hadn't seen before. She was always distant, keeping her feelings far from her sleeve, but now she was singing “Ring Around the Rosy.” She was completely oblivious to him, but another camp up behind him and let out a sigh. It startled the sniper from the picturesque view.

“Didn't think you'd see her like that, huh?” Arcade questioned with an amused snort.

“No,” Boone replied, not taking his eyes off the young woman.

Lucky bent down to a small child that had fallen and helped her up. She dusted her off and began digging into her pants pocket. Tears trickled down the girl's face, but she waited patiently for whatever the woman was looking for. She made two fists and presented them to the child with a smile. The tot smiled back and pointed at the balled hand playfully. Lucky opened her hand and it was empty. The little girl gave her a look of sadness and then Lucky opened the other hand. Small gummy chews glistened faintly in her gloved hand. The child grinned and snatched the treats hungrily from her.

“She'd have made a great mother,” Arcade pointed out.

Boone gave him a look of intrigue and shook his head.

“I don't think she would have been meant for that life,” he uttered.

He couldn't picture her with the burgeoning belly full of child. The glow that only a mother would have. It seemed like she would have been alien. No, Carla, now she would have been a great mother if she had been given the chance, but now. 

Boone's eyes fell to the ground as he thought about the merging of the two women. Carla's swollen abdomen on the small, scarred frame of Lucky. That picture, the imagining even with her brusque cold demeanor was beautiful. New life, the idea to begin again for a new generation. Maybe she would change, be a little happy. A little one would give her something – someone – to fight for. But it wasn't for Lucky no matter how the idea seemed intriguing for a social experiment.

“You don't give her enough credit,” Arcade grumbled. “She's very maternal, very protective. If you weren't drowning yourself in the bottle as much as she's been telling me, then you would know this already.”

“I didn't come here for a pep talk or intervention,” Boone snapped back.

“Then why did you come? You were pretty adamant about not being here,” Arcade questioned with frustration dripping on his words.

“I came to talk to her,” Boone answered with a point to Lucky.

“If I know her as well as I do, then she'll probably be happy you came,” Arcade said with a shake of the head. “She's still a child at heart.”

Lucky finally gave him her full attention and the smile she had drooped slightly. She approached him and cocked her head. She gave him an inquisitive look and folded her arms.

“I'm glad you came,” she softly remarked.

“I need to talk to you,” he answered back with a whisper.

Lucky's arms fell to her side and she looked at Arcade. “What about?”

Boone glanced at the man and shook his head slowly. What he needed to tell her was for her and her alone. He wanted to give her the details of what happened, needed her to know why he was the way he was.

“Can we speak in private,” Boone asked.

“Sure,” Lucky answered with a confused look. “Umm, the doctor needs some help with check ups, Arcade. Do you mind?”

The doctor shrugged and began to walk towards the medical tent. When he was well and good away, Lucky ushered Boone toward the camp.

 _“I really wasn't expecting you to show up. And the fact that you wanted to talk about Bitter Springs made things all the more awkward. I knew you didn't want to talk about it and I didn't press, just like with the Carla issue. If you were going to say anything about it, it would be of your own volition.”_ Lucky said, the sullen tone dripping through the speakers with the clacking of her lighter.

_“So we walked. You talked. I listened. I watched you change. The way you walked, they way you stared blankly ahead as if you were reliving the moment. The graveyard drove home your pain when you stopped at one of the graves. I didn't know what to say or what to do. I hadn't had someone pour their heart out to me before. Never stuck around long enough to allow for it to happen, I guess.”_

They walked up a small outcropping and stood. Boone stared into the canyon. Lucky watched. He told her what happened. This was where they fired into the canyon. This is where the innocent died. The women, the children. The whole place was a clusterfuck covered in gun smoke and screams. Not just those of the dying, but officers screaming into comms trying to make the bloodbath stop. Miscommunication is what the final reports stated.

It wasn't that. This was bad intel and people trying to make up for it. Shoot till you had nothing left had a new meaning during that “miscommunication.” It was there he'd lost faith in NCR and their officers. How could they have fucked up so damn bad that so many people - who didn't want to fight - have to die?

“Can we stay here for the night?” Boone asked, after he'd finished his tale.

Lucky looked to the sky and saw the setting sun. 

“We could do that,” she answered. 

He could see she was trying to hold herself together. It was a tragedy and she had finally found out why the Khans were so cold about Bitter Springs. Granted, she had only been given one side, their side, to the story and now she had the other. She was grieving for both of them. No one came out clean in that.

Boone looked back to the makeshift graveyard and shuddered. How many of his rounds had perforated one of those people? How many had he killed? Children? Women? He was no better than the Legion and what they do. How could he live with that kind of thinking? He pulled his sidearm and glanced at it briefly. It almost seemed fitting for it to stop here. He didn't know if he could keep fighting and running. Running from the past or the debt that he owed karma. He deserved to be dead.

“It's not worth giving your gun a blow job over,” Lucky said sadly. “Trust me.”

Boone glanced over his shoulder to the woman sitting on the ground. A small fire crackled between them. He didn't realize how long he'd been standing there or thinking about it. The sun had disappeared and he'd left Lucky to her devices for him. She could have been sleeping on a bed with a roof over her head tonight, and yet, she was here with him, giving him her large, sad, child-like eyes.


	13. Chapter 13

_“It was a crude sentiment, I know, but the point had to be made,”_ Lucky said. She let out a sigh and with the familiar regretful nostalgia exuding from her silence she began again. _“You looked like I felt in my darkest moment. After Dad. After what I'd seen. After what I'd done to end his suffering. But what of my own?_

_I sat there for hours staring at him. Picture a girl, who had died, not once, but twice in their short life. She had been condemned from conception. The only thing remaining was the dripping blood running through her fingers, staining her bandages till they fused like a cast. I hated him. I truly hated him. Maybe less than I had myself. I was guilty of putting him through those paces._

_I fell apart. Fell to my knees before him. I couldn't live with it. I put his gun to my head. I didn't close my eyes. There were no apologies. He didn't. I didn't. I'd lost it. I couldn't accept it. There was nothing there anymore. I'd lost everyone. The young one and the old.”_

Boone heard a gun's slide clicking and froze. It wasn't the .44. No, it was the .45 she kept in a shoulder holster. The sound was distinct in fashion. The whole damn weapon was an oddity and just as inaccessible to handling as her revolver. She'd only let him see it once. It was beautiful in construction and engraved with foreign characters. 

He'd asked her where she'd gotten it and all she did was smile and say that it was a gift from someone she'd saved. “Their light shining in darkness.”

_“I don't know what stayed my hand. I just couldn't do it. And I carry that heavy scar with me. Was it cowardice that stopped me? I couldn't tell you._

_But when I saw you staring at your gun and saw the way you reacted about Bitter Springs, I knew that you were at least considering it. You are worth more than that. And even if I didn't show it or say it, you gave me something to fight for. I saw a part of myself in you. Your past: Carla. The Baby. What the Legion had taken from you.”_

Boone smirked softly and sat by the fire. Lucky stared into the blaze and threw her lit cigarette in. They both tip-toed around conversation. Mouths would open to speak, but silence was the only thing uttered. He looked to the graveyard. All those bodies, the young and the old. What if he could have stopped it? He saw a shadow moving down the canyon towards them. Boone pulled the hammer back on his gun and saw the little orb of ED-E zooming towards them.

Lucky glanced at the bot and poked a stick into the smoldering embers. ED-E squawked and shimmied nervously. She looked at her Pip-Boy and bit her lower lip. Boone heard twigs snapping in the distance and grabbed his rifle from beside him. He peered through the scope and saw crimson glowing faintly in the moonlight. He held his breath. Anger, frustration, the whole gambit of emotions stirred in him. This was exactly what he was waiting for.

“Legion's here,” he uttered with a sharp point of his finger.

“Huh? No kidding,” Lucky said nonchalantly. She pulled her .44 and dislodged the cylinder. She eyed the rounds and with satisfaction latched it closed again. “What are we waiting for?”

Her eyes narrowed on him. She knew exactly what he was going to do and she had no problem being dragged along for the ride.

“This was exactly what I was waiting for,” he answered back. “I'll go through the pass. You flank.”

“Got it,” she replied with a nod. Boone hurried past her. “Just be careful.”

Boone didn't answer, but he felt the sentiment. He couldn't say that he would. This was his way to make amends for everything. Maybe wipe the slate clean. He knew he couldn't change what he'd done, but this was a start. If he died in the process, even better. He'd be remembered for his valiant sacrifice for the refugees. Not for Bitter Springs or failing Carla or that this run was more or less an assisted suicide, allowing his body to catch up with what was already dead inside.

He hurried along the vacant path, the ghosts of the dead never speaking out against the former NCR soldier. Utter silence filled the red canyon till he saw the first inklings of firelight. He had just enough time to zero his scope when he heard the first sounds of gunfire and people screaming. Soldiers hurried from the tents and hid behind barricades as he came out from behind the rusted, corrugated steel building and honed in on the first sporting equipment clad man he saw.

He held his breath and fired once watching the perfect spray of blood and his target's head snapping back as the bullet made impact. He darted from cover to cover, listening to strange whistle of plasma weapon fire off. Green balls flew threw the air and he knew they were coming from Arcade; it was the only weapon he used and one of the only people in the group – apparently – to have one. He made it to one of the sand bag barricades and saw Lucky crouched down behind a burned out husk of a car.

She gave him a look and then turned her attention to ED-E who was bobbing beside her. He looked through his scope and saw her speaking to the bot. She nodded her head in the sniper's direction and the eyebot zoomed as fast as it could past him and to the second opening to the camp. He saw Arcade give the floating trash can an apprehensive look and took his place along the opening. 

He heard footsteps running towards him and saw Lucky in a full sprint in his direction. She ran up beside him and placed herself behind the barricade. She was out of breath, her thoughts spread elsewhere as she dropped her empty casings beside her and rapidly reloaded the cylinder. She flicked her wrist and slammed it shut. She didn't say anything, nor look at her friend; she just stayed focused on staying alive.

“You hurt?” he asked.

She just shook her head and reached into her pants pocket. She pulled out a stimpak and placed it beside him. She stuck her head from cover and fired as the second wave of Legionaries came around the corner. The fought hard, taking down many of them before Lucky moved from cover again.

“We need to move,” she ordered. 

She hurried into the camp and Boone saw her come to a dead stop. He heard barking and knew the dogs were coming. Lucky had froze up just by the sound of them. Boone saw the attack dogs coming and knew she wasn't going to be able to do anything. He fired at the dogs and felled them before making his way to the main camp. Lucky was nearly unhinged when she came up to them. She hunted the enemy between the tents as terrified refugees ran for cover.

Boone saw one coming up behind her and fired at the same time a spray of blood splashed his face. He saw Lucky and the body of a man laying at his feet. She had saved him from an execution-style attack and he grew angry. She shouldn't have done it. This is what he had been waiting for. Damn her for doing this to him. She didn't even look amused by what she had done, she just kept going until she had to feed her weapon again.

Automatic fire echoed, screams escaped into the night like a phantom. It felt like it wasn't going to end. Boone saw Lucky motioning to the NCR soldiers. Signals of counts. Three. Two. One. They kept firing and between volleys, she edged her way toward the remaining Legionary. Through his scope he saw her soothing herself. She looked up to the night sky and nodded. She came from cover and stopped. He waited for the apportioned shot from her gun, but he heard nothing. 

Soldiers filed down the narrow canyon and stopped behind her. The person she was drawing on was instantly dog piled and detained. Lucky pulled the helm from the man and gave an almost stunned reaction. The two stared at each other, neither uttering a word between them before the POW was hauled away.

Lucky holstered her weapon and walked back to the camp. Arcade and the camp's doctor were speaking as they triaged the refugees. Boone slung his rifle over his shoulder, a strange look of satisfaction crept across his friend's face. She lit a cigarette and nodded.

“Why?” Boone asked when she stopped in front of him to look him over.

Lucky's eyes scanned him intently for a few moments. She squinted her eyes and took a drag from her cigarette. 

“I couldn't let you die,” she uttered softly.

 _“I had promised myself that I'd protect you. Keep you from going off the deep end and doing something you'd regret. I had to keep you alive. Don't ask why. My reasons are irrelevant,”_ Lucky explained in a cold dismissive tone.

Boone didn't say anything. He just looked at her; her blue eyes shimmered, whether from pain or smoke getting in her eyes, he couldn't say. She just looked sad. Her hand came up as if to put her hand on his shoulder. Maybe to show that she was relieved that she had kept her promise for this round in the fighting, but she stopped. It wasn't hesitation. It was like her temperament kept her from doing it. Her hand dropped back to her side and she finished her cigarette.

“Lucky,” Arcade called from the open door of the infirmary. “We could use your help.”

Her shoulders slumped and she turned to head up for what they both knew were injuries sustained in the firefight. The two walked up the stairs, spatters of blood blanketed the ground. It soaked into the wooden ties that made the stairs and fed the brown dirt with its own rendition. Boone heard the commanding officer barking at the prisoner. Lucky didn't divide her attention. 

He felt her become more distant as they walked into the make-shift surgical hospital. People sat on the floor and those that couldn't were laid out on operating tables. Refugees and NCR soldiers alike shared their pain in that canvas enclosed space. Lucky wiped the sweat from her brow and approached where Arcade and the camp's surgeon were.

Boone didn't want to get any closer. He didn't need to see it.

“This one's got a gaping wound. Probably from a machete,” the doctor explained.

Lucky let out a sigh and pulled on a pair of rubber gloves and put a bandana over her face. She slid them over her leather ones and reached into a doctor's bag. She pulled out a syringe and leaned in close to the patient.

“We'll get you taken care of,” she assured the woman on the table. “I'm going to give you something to sleep, alright?”

Her voice was soft, almost like she was talking to a child. He watched her work for only a few moments before the blood began to drop to the ground at her feet. He felt himself getting lightheaded. Time seemed to slow and the world revolved around him faster and harder than he wanted. He wanted off the ride, but he couldn't stop watching, seeing her hands move delicately over the torn flesh. She called Arcade over and asked for her to get her book from her pack. He hurried across the tent and brought a heavy bound book and placed it beside her. Her fingers skimmed down the page. Small droplets dribbled from the glove, but she didn't stop. She returned to her work without a word and the two doctors ground on, handing surgical tools to each other. 

“You could help me with the less injured,” Arcade said. “We could use it. Leave the doctors to their work.”

“I didn't know she was one,” Boone replied as he knelt beside the older man.

“Technically, she's not. She has no formal training from the Followers or the NCR,” Arcade continued as he wrapped a little boy's arm in gauze. “Relatives taught her some. The rest – I'm guessing – she learned on the road.”

“You know an awful lot about her,” Boone prodded.

Arcade's head drooped slightly at the inference, but plastered a fake smile on to soothe the boy.

“More than I care to admit. And it's not that I necessarily know _her._ I knew of her. I knew her family more,” Arcade muttered as they made their way to the next patient in line. He placed his hand on the man's forehead and gave Boone a glance. “Why don't you ask her? Though I doubt she'd tell you anything.”

“So you know about her?” Boone pressed further.

“Only things I can surmise. She's not that forthcoming with the details, and that's probably a good thing,” Arcade answered. The two of them looked back at the doctors and Arcade let out a sigh. “You should probably get some rest, they'll be going at it all night at this rate.”

Boone shrugged. The nagging pull of sleep was the furthest thing from his mind. Even though his body agreed with the sentiment, he couldn't conceive of resting. Not with a Legionary in the camp or the shed tears of the injured. He gave Lucky a look and saw she had been stitching her patient's abdomen up. Her white shirt was covered in blood; she was standing in a pool of it, but she remained unphased even though the view made the sniper's insides turn in knots.

He exited the tent and stood with the remaining soldier's for a bit. They spoke with utter relief about surviving the gun battle, but it was always a restrained relief with their comrades injured. It teetered on the juxtaposition. They all saw him and thanked him for the help. He didn't want their thanks. He just wanted something; anything in comparison to this. He walked down the trail to where he'd first scene Lucky. There wasn't anything else he could do.

_“I couldn't let you die.”_

The words reverberated in him. It was there. A warmth that he hadn't seen in her and yet it was veiled in the icy shadow of her past. Why couldn't she tell him? She was willing to go out of her way to keep him alive for some God awful selfish reason, but she couldn't give a little of herself up to him. It didn't seem fair, it didn't seem right. Maybe he really didn't want to know that much, just something. Something that made him understand where she was going and who she was.


End file.
